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ROCKY    POINT. 


Chronicles  of  Manuel  Alanus 

A  True  Story  of  Old  San  Francisco 


BY 

L.  ERNEST  WYNEKEN 


New  York 

COCHRANE  PUBLISHING  CO. 

1908 


Copyright,   1908, 
By  L.  ERNEST  WYNEKEN. 


Add' I 
GIFT 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 


Pardoned  out! 

How  bewildering  the  city ! 

I  have  taken  a  room  in  a  lodginghouse  near  the  ferrv 
landing,  a  nice  room  and  with  a  clean  bed,  and  a  bay- 
window  looking  out  on  the  wide  place  in  front  of  the  big 
Ferry  Station.  But  it  is  too  expensive  for  me.  Three 
dollars  a  week  I  I  took  it  for  one  week;  then  I  shall 
move. 

What  crowds  of  people  there  are  always  coming  and 
going  on  the  ferry-boats  I  And  the  street-cars,  how  they 
come  and  shift  and  go  again  like  clock-work!  And  they 
and  the  ferr}'boats  moving  on  time  make,  or  seem  to 
make,  the  people  move  mechanically  the  same  way. 

I  ate  my  lunch  at  a  cheap  restaurant,  a  short  distance 
up  the  street  from  this  place.  After  that  I  took  a  stroll 
along  the  water  front.  Some  of  it  is  changed  altogether, 
some  of  it  is  pretty  much  as  it  was  when  I  knew  it  last. 
The  lumber-yards,  which  formerly  extended  to  the  water, 
are  all  gone.  There  is  a  wide  quay  with  houses  fronting 
on  it  and  wharves  opposite  running  out  into  the  bay, 
with  big  and  little  vessels  lying  at  them,  facing  the 
houses.     All  contain  stores  and  shops. 

T  bought  this  writing-book  and  some  ink  and  pens  at 
a  stationer's  and  came  back  to  my  room  to  write.  In 
prison  I  got  accustomed  to  write,  till  it  has  become  a  con- 
firmed habit. 

I  feel  strange,  yet  not  so  very  strange.  It  almost 
seems  as  if  I  in  reality,  had  never  left  the  city,  had 
never  been  away  shut  up  all  these  many  long  years  in 
prison.  A  boy  when  I  entered  the  prison,  and  what 
but  a  I7OV  now  I 


048 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

How  could  it  be  otherwise?  Much  as  I  have  seen 
and  heard  and  thought  and  in  myself  have  lived  through, 
and  read  and  written  out,  to  a  great  extent  I  must  have 
remained  standing  still,  standing  where  I  stood,  the  boy 

I  was. 

The  evening- fogs  are  closing  in,  the  same,  same,  sum- 
mer-fogs. 

It  is  this  mostly,  I  believe,  that  makes  me  feel  as  if 
there  were  no  changes:  the  sharp  wind  and  the  cold, 
dismal  fogs  all  day,  all  days,  all  seasons. 

Would  that  they  would  close  in  upon  me  now  forever ! 
Vain  regrets!  ''To  have  no  vain  regrets!"  That  was 
what  the  Prison  Director  said  when  he  dismissed  me. 
I  have  only  the  money  he  gave  me,  the  five  dollars,  which, 
together  with  a  new  suit  of  clothes  the  government  gives 
to  every  convict  upon  his  discharge,  and  the  fifty  dollars,  a 
present,  he  said,  from  friendly  people.  It  came  mostly, 
I  have  no  doubt,  out  of  his  own  pocket. 

He  spoke  very  kindly;  too  kindly  .  His  words  will 
not  leave  my  ears.  "To  have  no  vain  regrets,  to  begin 
right  off  a  new  life,"  calling  me  a  young  man!  And  yes, 
so  I  am!  "Not  to  proclaim  myself  a  convict,  but  if 
necessary  boldly  acknowledge  it  and  refer  those  who 
would  reproach  me  to  my  prison-record  and  to  him." 
Though  of  what  good  that? 

"Above  all,"  he  said,  and  that  was  good  advice,  "to 
go  to  work  right  away  without  delay  and  keep  on  work- 
ing; not  to  think  of  the  prison  at  all,  to  put  it  out  of  my 
mind  entirely.  This  would  not  be  easy,  because  I  had 
been  so  long  in  prison,  entering  it  at  a  very  early  age. 
On  account  of  my  extreme  youth  I  had  received  excep- 
tional treatment,  not  only  at  that  time  but  continually 
right  along  unchanged.  Some  people  would  perhaps 
think  that  I  was  indeed  spoilt  and  unfit  to  live  outside 
the  walls  of  a  penitentiary  any  more.  "He  however 
thought  differently,"  he  said,  "and  not  only  that  I  had 

4 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

been  wrongly  imprisoned  and  should  be  set  free,  but  that 
I  should  soon  show  people  that  I  was  able  to  take  care 

of  myself."  ^  i   j  j 

"He  had  long  since  become  convinced,  he  concluded, 
"that  I  had  killed  the  man  I  did,  in  self-defence.  If 
everything  were  known,  it  would  be  so  found,  and  for 
that  reason  he  had  exerted  himself  to  obtain  my  pardon." 

If  everything  were  known !  If  everything  were  known, 
it  would  be  seen  it  was  much  more  than  self-defense. 

He  wanted  me  to  take  a  place  he  had  bespoke  for 
me  as  gardener  at  a  gentleman's  country-seat  in  the  valley 
next  beyond  the  hills  west  of  the  penitentiary.  I  told 
him  I  could  not  yet  bear  the  idea  of  going  where  I 
should  be  known  from  the  start  as  a  prison-bird.  Now 
I  almost  wish  I  had  accepted  the  place  so  kindly  pro- 
vided for  me,  there,  beyond  the  low,  bare  hills  that  have 
for  years  walled  in  my  longings,  my  hopes,  my  sorrows, 
all  my  thoughts,  my  very  being,  till  it  is  to  me  almost 
as  if  they  were  part  of  me,  as  if  it  v/ere  home. 

I  recall  them  now  as  I  saw  them  then  every  evenmg 
in  rounded  masses,  dust-colored  under  the  yellow  sky, 
divided   into  squares  by  the  black  bars  of  the  grated 

window. 

Homesick?  Homesick?  Yes,  homesick  for  the  prison! 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if  I  had  never  been 
pardoned  out.  Then  I  could  wish  and  long  and  hope 
for  everything.  How  often  when  in  prison  did  I  thmk 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock  would  come  to  me,  or  Mahon,  and  with 
them  mv  little  brother ! 

What  can  I  think  now?  What  can  I  do?  Where 
shall  I  look  for  them?  Dare  I  go  look  for  them?  If 
they  had  thought  me  worth  looking  after,  would  they 
not  have  come  long  ago?  They  could  easily  have  found 
out,  if  they  did  not  know  where  to  look  for  me.  But 
they  knew.     They  must  have  known.     Why   did  they 

5 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

never  come,  never  send,  never  give  a  sign?     Are  they 
all  dead? 

Oh,  no !  I  know  it  all  very  well. 

Had  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  been  here  at  that  time,  the  time 
of  my  trial,  he  would  have  stood  by  me,  I  am  sure.  But 
what  was  there  ever  with  him,  outside  of  his  many 
business-affairs,  that  was  not  out  of  mind  when  out  of 
sight;  except  his  son,  his  only  child,  his  Mahon  Mark? 
Should  I  meet  him  tomorrow  he  would  remember  me, 
know  me,  be  my  friend  as  he  was  every  time  he  ran 
across  me  when  I  was  a  child.  But  if  he  never  sees  me, 
never  hears  of  me  again,  he  may  never  think  of  me 
any  more,  not  a  single  time. 

The  same  with  l^lahon!  Yet  not  so!  Mahon,  so 
open,  so  free-hearted,  so  generous!  Naturally  unselfish 
and  by  his  father  spoilt  to  selfishness!  Made  careless, 
heedless;  and  thoughtlessly  inconsiderate!  Forgetful!  I 
cannot  but  believe  that  he  still  thinks  of  me  sometimes,  I 
thought  so  much  of  him. 

But  what  of  that? 

I  have  often  tried  to  feel  sure  that  Mahon  would 
remember  me,  think  of  me  spontaneously,  even  though 
he  would  take  no  steps  to  enter  into  communication  with 
me  unless  brought  to  it  by  accident  or  some  outside  means. 
It  would  be  like  his  father.  But  in  truth  I  doubt  if  he 
has  had  any  thought  of  me.  He  was  much  to  me,  but 
what  was  I  to  him?  And  who,  or  what  would  have  kept 
him  in  memory  of  me?  Or  indeed,  what  vv'as  there  to 
remember  ? 

When  I  knew  him  first  I  was  too  little  to  be  much  no- 
ticed and  known  by  any  big  boy  like  him.  He  was  half  as 
old  again  as  I.  Kind  he  was  to  me  and  often  my  protec- 
tor, but  no  more  than  to  others,  if  I  did  feel  it  more.  He 
filled  me  with  admiration  and  afir'ection.  And  when  for 
more  than  four  years  we  were  parted,  I  kept  my  heart 
as  full  of  love  for  him  as  ever  it  had  been.     But  when 

6 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

we  met  again,  did  he  know  me?  He  not  only  did  not 
know  who  I  was,  but  he  had  no  recollection  of  there  ever 
having  been  such  a  one  as  I,  no  memory  whatever  of 
former  times. 

Then  after  being  reunited  and  going  to  that  college 
together  he  was  as  friendly  to  me  and  kind  as  ever 
and  became  my  patron.  And  I  loved  him  and  admired 
him  as  I  always  had  done.  But  after  all  we  were  far 
divided,  for  our  grades  were  different.  ^lany  days  I  did 
not  see  him  except  for  a  moment  at  a  time.  And  when 
he  left  with  his  father  for  Europe,  a  young  man  of  seven- 
teen years  of  age.  what  connection  was  there  in  reality 
between  us,  other  than  what  lay  in  my  imagination,  of 
which  he  knew  nothing,  my  affection  for  him,  which  he 
felt  no  longer  than  we  were  together  ? 

But  the  weeks  we  were  at  my  father's  country-place, 
the  last  weeks  we  Vv-ere  together,  that  time  he  should 
remember. 

And  my  brother  !  My  little  brother  !  Harry  I  Harry ! 
Where  are  you?  Do  you  ever  think  of  me?  I  killed 
him  to  save  you  from  him.  He  would  have  destroyed 
you  as  he  tried  to  destroy  me.  He  did  all  he  could  to  de- 
stroy our  father.  He  helped  to  bring  my  mother  to  her 
grave  and  made  your  mother  his  slave. 

How  can  Harry  think  of  me  all  these  succeeding  years ! 
Six  years  old  he  v.-as.  To  me  lie  always  is  the  little 
boy  I  held  in  my  arms  as  he  clung  to  me  when  they 
parted  us  in  the  courtroom,  his  kisses  and  tears  on  my 
face,  his  sobs  in  my  ears. 

How  can  he  think  of  me?  What  can  he  know  of  me? 
Long  ago  the  recollection  of  me  must  have  faded,  even 
the  bare  knov.dedge  of  my  existence  been  forgotten.  For 
who  would  ever  tell  him  of  me?  Who  could?  Not  his 
mother,  silly,  heartless  thing !  Heartless  !  Headless ! 
What  was  she  ever  but  the  dumb  tool  in  the  hands  of 
that   man,    our    common    enemy,    a   tool    with    which    to 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

wound  our  father  and  wear  out  his  life?  I  doubt  if 
she  ever  had  any  understanding  of  what  she  was  doing, 
or  what  the  man  was  that  controlled  her.  And  how  had 
my  father  come  to  marry  her  ? 

But  Cora,  the  daughter  of  her  and  that  man,  palmed 
off  on  my  father  as  his  child,  Cora,  she  was  well  able  to 
tell  Harry  of  me.  She  knew  all,  better  than  1,  better  than 
even  the  man  that  was  her  father,  w^hose  every  thought 
of  evil  to  us  she  shared.  This  evil  directed  most  of  all 
to  my  father  who  loved  her  dearly,  believing  her  to  be  his 
ovm  child.  Yes!  Cora  could  have  talked  to  Harry  of 
me  but  I  am  sure  she  never  did.  She  knew  that  to  most 
surely  divide  us  all  our  lives  Harry  must  forget  me,  and 
that  would  soonest  be  done  if  he  never  heard  me  men- 
tioned. 

If  only  she  did  him  no  harm,  such  harm  as  might  be 
his  destruction!  But  if  she  had  I  surely  would  have 
heard  of  it.  If  he  were  dead  her  hate  would  certainly 
have  found  some  w*ay  to  let  me  know,  for  if  I  am  for- 
gotten by  everyone  else,  by  her,  I  know,  I  am  remem- 
bered perfectly. 

The  evening  is  growing  into  night.  I  ought  to  rest, 
and  yet  I  cannot.  I  have  touched  once  again  the  spring 
that  opens  the  entrance  to  the  dark  space  through  which, 
when  once  I  have  started  I  must  go  on.  I  was  the  same 
with  my  father  through  life. 

My  father!     Yes,  my  father! 

How  often  have  I  made  the  round,  gone  fore  and 
back,  feeling  from  point  to  point,  combining  what  my 
father  told  me  himself  and  what  some  papers  contained, 
which  he  handed  me  before  he  died,  with  what  came  to 
my  knowledge  from  outward  sources,  what  I  knew  within 
myself  and  the  confused  accounts  of  Thomson:  combin- 
ing, framiiig,  piecing  together,  reasoning,  construing  and 
always  only  groping  in  the  dark!  How  often  have  I 
tried  to  write  it  out,  to  make  it  plainer  to  myself,  the 

8 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

story  of  my  father's  life!     And  yet  every  time  the  rela- 
tion of  the  many  parts  are  no  better  understood. 

A  family,  by  name  Alanus,  of  the  upper  mercantile 
class  of  one  of  the  Atlantic  seaboard-cities  of  the  United 
States,  well  to  do,  the  man  of  German  parentage,  the 
wife  of  mixed  descent,  their  only  child  a  boy,  born  in 
Florence,    Italy,   while   they   are  traveling   and   making 
quite  a  lengthened  stay  in  Tuscany.     Some  eight,  nine 
years  later,  when  revisiting  the  birthplace  of  their  son, 
they    adopt   another   boy   whom    Mr.    Alanus    somehow 
runs    across    in    his    rambles    in    the    neighborhood    of 
Florence     at     some     peasant's     place,     and     who     first 
attracts    his    attention    by    a    strange    likeness    to    his 
own  son.     Upon  closer  observation  and  investigation  he 
seems     chosen,     marked     and     by     a,    most     designing 
providence    placed    in    their    very    way    for    adoption. 
Besides  resembling  their  son  in  features  he  was  hardly 
less  like  him  in  build  and  stature  and  most  astonishingly 
like  him  in  some  special  particulars,  sucfi  as  a  peculiar 
cluster  of  five  little,  dark  birthmark-spots,  on  the  right 
hip.     Moreover  he  was  an  orphan,  nameless,  friendless. 
He,  also  again  like  their  son,  was  half  German,  though 
further  his  parentage  was  unknown.     He  was  of  withni 
less  than  nine  months  the  same  age  as  their  son.     Thus 
he  seemed  in  every  respect  a  fitting  foster  brother  which 
the  parents  were  seeking  for  their  son.     It  was  a  thmg 
that  had  been  recommended  and  urged  by  their  family- 
physician,  consulted  on  that  point  before  this  time  by  Mr. 
Alanus.     Their  child,  whose  peculiarities  of   disposition 
must  even  at  this  early  age  have  given  rise  to  apprehen- 
sions for  his  future  conduct,  needed  a  suitable  companion, 
and  they  were  doubly  glad  for  his  sake  to  have  met  with 
one  so  unassuming,   and   satisfied  to  never  claim  more 
than  a  second  place,  and  yet  so  like  as  to  fully  appear  the 
brother  of  their  child  as  he  was  to  be. 

As  the  two  boys  grew  up,  their  resemblance  was  less 

9 


ClIROXICLES  or  MAXUBL  ALAKUS 

marked.  Their  eyes  and  voice  and  their  manner  never 
Iiad  been  ahkc.  Later  again,  under  foreign  skies  the 
one  retained  his  hghter  skin,  hair  and  eyes,  while  the 
adopted  son,  the  one  who  was  my  father,  grew  much 
darker.  Still  likeness  in  features  and  figure,  walk  and 
carriage  always  remained.  Though  how  there  ever  could 
be  any  resemblance  at  all  between  the  two,  their  natures 
being  so  utterly  unlike,  who  can  understand? 

The  family  returned  again  to  their  home  in  the  United 
States  with  the  poir  adopted  waif  whom  they  called  Henry 
for  ]\Ir.  Alanus.  It  came  to  pass,  and  I  must  think  very 
soon,  that  the  parents  grow  to  love  him  more  than  their 
own  child.  For  who  that  is  not  insensible  to  all  that  is 
lovable  in  human  kind  but  must  have  loved  him ;  bright, 
brave  and  true,  modest  and  manly,  sweet-tempered,  gen- 
tle; affectionate,  of  good  sense  and  parts,  and  of  good 
spirits  too.  But  at  bottom  he  was  of  a  nervous  tempera- 
ment, much  tinged  with  melancholy,  and  very  bashful. 

I  can  picture  him  to  myself,  the  little  boy,,  happy  in 
his  loving  heart  to  be  loved,  but  unhappy  already  in  his 
generous,  self-denying  way  for  Richard's  sake,  the  real 
son,  wdio  might  feel  himself  robbed  of  his  birthright  by 
him,  the  intruder ;  and  already  in  his  over-conscientious- 
ness trying  to  make  amends,  reparation  for  this  intrusion 
by  subordinating  his  wishes  and  desires  to  those  of  Rich- 
ard's;  already,  in  self-conscious  sense  of  duty  and  obliga- 
tion, taking  all  the  tricks  and  misdeeds  of  the  other's 
malignity  as  something  to  be  borne  and  forgiven,  forgot- 
ten untold,  unthought  of,  atoned  for,  as  it  were,  by  his, 
my  father's,  own  suft'erings. 

All  his  life  it  continued,  through  early  boyhood,  school- 
days, and  first  years  of  business-life  on  and  on  within 
steady  increase  the  run  of  time ! 

When  barely  of  age  and  but  just  through  their  young- 
est clerkship,  Richard  developed  such  evil  traits  of  char- 
acter that  Mr.  Alanus,  the  father,  became  convinced  that 

10 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAXUS 

the  only  way  of  saving  Richard,  as  well  as  of  savmg  hnn- 
self  from  Richard,  was  to  send  him  away  out  of  his  house 
and  business,  out  of  his  town  and  country,  to  give  him 
the  chance,  if  it  was  in  him,  to  redeem  himself,  to  make 
a  fresh  start  in  an  entirely  new  world.  And  my  father, 
his  foster  brother  of  his  own  volition  w-ent  vvith  him. 
Situations  were  procured  for  them  in  Buenos  Aires,  and 
they  left  home  never  to  return. 

Mr.  Alanus  opposed  my  father's  going  most  strenuously 
and  parted  from  him  at  last  in  great  agony.  And  why  did 
he  go,  leave  home,  the  parents,  the  place  so  dear  to  him 
that  while  he  lived  never  was  he  again  altogether  free 
from  homesickness?  He  could  not  have  believed  that  he 
could  do  anything  to  change  Richard's  nature  or  that  he 
had  influence  to  check  and  turn  Richard's  w-ay  of  life. 
He  may  have  considered  himself  able  to  straighten  some 
of  Richard's  crookedness,  to  prevent  or  counteract  some 
of  his  plots.  Young  and  of  everyone  more  thoughtful 
than  of  himself,  the  consideration  how  Richard's  every 
action  must  reflect  on  himself,  the  risk  he  ran  of  ruining 
his  own  life  by  linking  it  to  Richard's,  formed  no  part  of 
his  calculation,  if  calculate  he  did.  It  was  simply  his 
duty  to  go  and  he  w^ent. 

But  no!  No  duty  nor  calculation!  It  w^as  to  him  a 
wrong  his  uprightness  w^ould  not  let  him  bear :  that  he, 
Henry,  the  outsider,  the  merely  adopted  one  should  stay 
at  home,  be  everything,  have  everything,  while  the  real 
son  w^ent  into  exile.  It  was  that  w^hich  made  him  take 
upon  himself  to  share  Richard's  banishment. 

I  doubt  if  my  father  ever  fully  understood  Richard 
Alanus,  and  not  alone  because  of  their  total  unlikeness 
but  perhaps  as  much  because  he  never  tried  to  know  him 
as  he  w^as.  He  never  wanted  to  fully  lift  the  veil  he  him- 
self had  spun  and  woven  since  the  first  beginning  and 
ever  held  over  and  around  Richard  to  shield  him  from 
other's  eyes  and  hide  all  there  was  in  him  of  abomination. 

II 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

In  his  fairness  and  tenderness  my  father  always,  I  be- 
lieve, saw  in  Richard  the  wronged  child,  the  ousted  son, 
wronged  and  ousted  by  himself,  or  if  not  by  him  in  strict 
truth,  at  least  in  a  manner  through  him,  for  himself.  He 
thought  Richard  unhappy,  miserable  because  unloved,  as 
he  himself  would  be  and  through  misery  driven  to  wild 
exploits  for  relief.  Later  he  may  have  thought  to  him- 
self that  Richard's  bitterness  turned  him  to  dissipation, 
vice  and  viciousness.  But  finally  my  father  must  have 
known  his  utter  depravity  and  his  enmity  to  him.  Yet  to 
the  last  there  was  that  in  my  father  which  would  not  let 
him  condemn  Richard  without  some  reserve,  some  allow- 
ance for  his  wrong  doing. 

But  Richard  was  not  unhappy,  except  may  be  through 
failure  of  some  plan  of  wickedness,  casually  and  momen- 
tarily till  he  could  turn  to  some  other  scheme.  He  did 
not  grieve  nor  eat  his  heart  in  bitterness.  He  was  of  a 
lively,  sanguine  disposition,  and  of  a  loud  and  scurrilous 
humor.  And  impudent !  Loving  all  the  low  pleasures  of 
life,  there  was  no  enjoyment  to  him  equal  to  plotting, 
practising  all  sorts  of  deceits  and  tricks.  He  would  gain 
the  following  of  young  people  mostly  and  lead  them  on 
to  debauchery  and  corruption  when  he  had  gained  power 
over  them.  He  would  maltreat  them  further  with  insults, 
taunts,  jeers,  abuse  of  any  kind,  especially  before  strang- 
ers. He  was  as  cowardly,  mean  and  cruel  as  he  was 
brazen.  He  loved  to  embroil  his  acquaintances  in  quar- 
rels, trick  and  trap  them  into  what  might  bring  them  open 
disgrace  if  not  utter  ruin ! 

Years  went  by  in  Buenos  Aires !  The  more  unfettered 
forms  of  social  life  in  the  new  country  made  Richard's 
evil  ways  at  first  less  observable,  while  affording  him  more 
opportunities.  His  only  obstacle  in  reality  was  my  father, 
who  first  counseled,  tried  to  prevent  and  at  the  end  always 
stepped  in  and  helped  out !  And  he,  too,  of  course,  was 
but  a  young  man  of  warm  blood,  wanting  his  fun.  needing 

12 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

it!  How  many  things  may  have  slipped  him?  How 
many  times  may  he  have  come  dangerously  near  being  im- 
plicated in  the  tricks  he  aimed  at  defeating?  How  many 
traps  must  have  been  set  for  him?  And  he  the  better 
hated  for  every  failure  to  be  entrapped ! 

Richard  was  always  in  need  of  money,  although  by 
no  means  altogether  without  m.oney-sense,  as  is  the  true 
spendthrift,  but  without  care  of  it,  except  for  his  de- 
baucheries! And  my  father  was  always  the  one  to  have 
to  furnish  it,  if  not  before  then  afterwards  to  cancel  and 
make  good  obligations  incurred,  or  worse!  And  again 
my  father  was  always  the  more  hated  for  every  loyal, 
helpful  act! 

Hate?  Well,  perhaps  not  so  much  hate!  For  at 
bottom  I  do  not  take  Richard  Alanus  to  have  been  man 
enough  to  really,  soundly  hate  anybody.  He  did  not  hate 
the  people  he  ill-used.  I  think  he  mostly  was  quite  im- 
personal about  it.  He  did  it  for  the  pleasure  it  gave  him : 
a  sort  of  gratification  of  a  depraved  taste ;  a  satisfaction 
too,  of  his  vanity,  to  think  that  he  could  treat  people  thus ! 

Envious  he  was  and  vain.  Jealousy  was  most  powerful 
in  him — jealousy  of  everybody  and  everything,  and  par- 
ticularly of  what  is  most  admirable.  There  was  in  him 
a  certain  love  to  destroy,  childish  almost,  cruelty:  the  de- 
light in  inflicting  pain,  the  lust  to  torture!  There  was 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing  in  him  to  be  worked  on,  no 
sense  of  honor,  or  duty,  no  principle,  no  feeling,  no  com- 
mon humanity,  no  shame,  not  even  self-interest,  except 
as  concerned  his  personal  safety,  nothing  but  the  fear  of 
the  coward ! 

I  saw  it,  a  child  whom  he  had  carried  off  from  the  old 
wharf  to  be  done  away  with,  so  that  my  father,  then  on 
my  track,  might  with  new  anguish  learn  too  late  that  the 
boy  he  had  so  often  met  and  had  come  to  like  and  love, 
had  been  the  son  he  had  thought  dead.  I  saw  it  as  I  read 
his  whole  mind.     So  plain !     Could  not  others  see  it?     So 

13 


Ch'ROXICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

plain,  so  naked !  Could  not  my  father  have  seen  it  long 
since  ? 

But,  may  be,  the  very  plainness  and  nakedness  was  the 
very  reason  for  his  baseness  not  being  taken  at  its  full 
value;  that  and  the  gradual  progress.  For  if  he  plotted 
to  corrupt  and  debauch  and  ruin  young  men  and  women, 
nearly  always  young  people,  the  beginnings  must  naturally 
always  have  been  in  the  way  of  ordinary  dissipation,  such 
as  any  young  fellow  can  allow  himself  without  attracting 
attention.  If  he  practised  vices  as  much  to  lead  on  others 
as  for  his  own  gratification  and  if  it  told  on  him,  the 
effect  would  not  be  observable  at  once.  And  when  he 
committed  forgeries,  they  were  now  no  more  of  his 
father's  but  of  my  father's  signature  and  not  brought 
to  light.  Not  till  later  did  he  have  to  desist  from  raising 
money  that  way.  To  my  father  it  must  have  been  such 
an  old  story  that  it  had  almost  lost  its  meaning. 

While  these  two  foster  brothers  were  in  Buenos  Aires 
their  parents  died.  The  inheritance  went  to  my  fatlier, 
the  will  stating  that  Richard  had  already  cost  his  father 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  his  fortune.  But,  of  course, 
all  the  money  went  into  Richard's  hands  as  soon  as  my 
father  obtained  it,  except  a  certain  reserve-fund. 

Later  they  left  Buenos  Aires  and  went  to  the  city 
of  Mexico,  where  my  father  accepted  a  very  lucrative 
position  in  a  German-French  banking  house.  Here  Rich- 
ard lived  without  occupation,  till,  as  in  the  first  place  it 
had  become  imperative  that  he  should  leave  his  father's 
house  and  his  town  and  country,  and  as  undoubtedly  it 
had  been  equally  imperative  that  he  had  to  leave  Buenos 
Aires,  so  now  again  disclosures  of  scandalous  doings 
necessitated  his  leaving  Mexico  City.  And  my  father 
of  course  went  with  him.  It  w^as  the  last  chance,  it  was 
the  only  possible  way  of  saving  Richard,  to  give  him  this 
one  more  opportunity  to  redeem  himself,  to  let  him  take 
an  entirely  new  start  in  a  new  country.     They  determined 

14 


CHROXICLES  Ub'  MAXi'EL  ALAXUS 

to  go  to  California,  where,  to  be  sure,  the  tirst  golden 
days  were  long  since  past  and  gone,  but  where  develop- 
ment of  the  whole  country  seemed  to  insure  long  years 
of  prosperity.  They  were  to  be  the  representatives  in 
San  Francisco  of  the  German-French  house  my  father 
had  been  the  manager  of  in  the  city  of  ^lexico. 

That  my  father  should  handcuff  himself  to  that,  his 
worst  enemy,  is  not  strange,  but  who  can  explain  why  he, 
the  soul  of  honor  and  integrity  and  a  man  of  great  busi- 
ness ability,  should  take  Richard  Alanus  in  partnership,  or 
engage  him  at  all  in  this  business,  which  was  an  affair 
of  others'  as  well  as  his  own,  belonging  in  part  to  that 
German  French  concern?  By  this  time  he  must  have 
known,  if  not  of  all  his  depravedness,  his  more  than  ir- 
responsibility and  utter  lack  of  principle.  How  could  he 
sustain  and  countenance  Richard? 

Only  that  what  money  my  father  put  in  the  venture 
was  the  remainder  of  the  inheritance  from  the  parents,  of 
which  in  his  eyes  Richard  was  the  rightful  owner.  The 
money  made  Richard  the  real  partner,  and  my  father's 
boss  in  fact. 

To  place  him  in  the  position  of  principal  partner  and 
boss  was  the  very  last  chance,  the  main  agency  vs-hich  was 
to  work  Richard's  cure  and  salvation !  ^ly  father  was 
merely  partner  in  name,  the  man  to  do  all  the  work, 
assume  all  the  responsibility  and  be  a  guarantee,  a  sort 
of  bond  for  Richard,  given  to  the  other  partners.  At 
bottom  it  was  still  my  father's  feeling  of  duty  and  obliga- 
tion to  the  parents  which  he  would  discharge  by  sacri- 
ficing himself  to  the  son. 

Most  certainly,  too,  Richard  never  entirely  showed 
himself  such  as  he  was  to  my  father.  My  father  could 
not  have  known  him  as  I  knew  him.  Although  I  must 
say  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  Richard  was  a  man 
very  easily  seen  through.  There  was  so  much  of  the  fool 
in  him  that  with  all  his  deceitfulness  he  did  not  really  de- 

15 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ceive  or  convince.  In  all  he  said  and  undertook,  in  all  he 
did  he  always  made  some  show  of  being  insincere,  some 
pretence  of  playing  pranks,  as  if  he  did  not  know  the 
difference  between  fun  and  crime.  And  in  truth,  he 
wanted  people  to  think  this  or  something  like  this  of  him. 
But  the  make-belief,  the  bluff  was  very  plainly  observable. 
At  the  same  time  a  reality  was  in  the  trick.  It  was  not 
all  a  make-belief,  not  all  pretence.  The  fool  in  him  was 
too  real,  the  lack  of  sense  too  great.  He  could  not  help 
doing  most  things  foolishly  and  always  doing  foolish 
things.  He  never  knew  when  to  stop.  He  appeared 
never  to  be  able  to  look  ahead  any  distance  and  to  see 
consequences.  He  constantly  gave  himself  away  and 
would  without  understanding  and  judgment  abuse  the 
servicefulness  even  of  such  of  the  shady  set  of  characters 
as  were  his  helpers,  such  as  are  always  gathering  round 
a  man  like  Richard  in  any  large  city,  or  anywhere. 

His  boldness  it  was  that  carried  him  through  in  every- 
thing, his  brazenness,  his  front  of  doubly  chilled  steel ; 
that  was  the  thing.  And  also  a  certain  brutality  in 
treating  them,  gave  him  power  over  women  which  he 
undoubtedly  possessed. 

Outwardly  he  was  of  fair  appearance  as  he  was  of  fair 
address,  and  fair  abilities.  Not  brilliant  by  any  means, 
perhaps  not  even  bright  (although  I  have  heard  his 
social  talents  extolled)  and  without  any  special  gift, 
yet  he  had  an  adroitness  or  aptitude  for  scheming.  This 
talent  or  mind  for  mere,  shallow  trickery  I  can  not  take 
as  anything  great,  nor  think  that  he  was  anything  but 
an  ordinary,  worthless  evil-doer,  who  was  mainly  success- 
ful because  my  father's  consideration  and  kindhearted- 
ness  disarmed  him,  his  principal  victim,  as  much  as  his 
fairness  and  very  fearlessness  made  him  vulnerable. 

But  yet  what  a  scoundrel !  To  defraud,  cheat  and  rob 
his  own  parents!  To  scheme  against  my  father  from 
childhood!     To   attempt   my   mother's    destruction    and 

i6 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

mine !  To  seduce  the  silly  beauty  my  father  married,  and 
afterwards  make  her  leave  my  father,  keeping  her  as  an 
everlasting  threat,  an  impending  possibility  of  robbing 
my  father  of  his  children,  at  least  of  Cora,  whom  he 
wrongly  believed  to  be  his  child.  At  last  the  fulfillment 
of  the  threat,  Cora's  leaving  my  father,  broke  his  heart 
and  killed  him! 

Am  I  pleading  my  own  case? 

Yes,  I  shot  him  dead !  Years  of  my  life  in  prison,  have 
I  paid  for  it.  Put  me  back  in  time,  let  it  all  happen  again, 
I  should  have  to  do  it  again.  Had  my  father  but  lived ! 
Had  my  father  but  lived! 

Oh,  father,  father,  father !  I  should  have  killed  him 
sooner  to  save  your  life.  That  has  often  been  the  bitterest 
thought  of  all.  But  you  had  to  die  that  I  could  kill  him. 
Not  in  revenge,  no !  But  it  was  your  death  that  wrought 
me  up  to  do  the  deed. 


And  now  I  must  set  down  the  story  of  my  mother, 
which  forms  but  a  short  episode,  as  mine  does  a  little 
longer  one,  in  that  of  my  father's  life.  Some  of  it  is  only 
explainable  by  remembering  the  then  primitive  state  of 
the  whole  West  Coast,  as  good  as  uninhabited,  without 
modern  means  of  intercommunication  and  hardly  more 
than  the  first  beginnings  of  civilized  public  life. 

To  go  to  San  Francisco  my  father  and  Richard  Alanus 
left  the  city  of  Mexico  for  the  West  Coast,  to  meet  at  a 
certain  harbor  the  mail-steamer  which  touched  at  diflfer- 
ent  ports  on  her  trip  from  Panama  to  San  Francisco.  My 
mother  was  to  follow  later. 

She  was  a  young  Mexican.  My  father  had  made  her 
acquaintance  not  long  before  departing.  She  was  just 
entering  upon  womanhood.  She  had  been  to  him  as  his 
wife  since  the  time  they  first  met.     He  loved  her  dearly 

17 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  intended  to  marry  her  as  soon  as  they  were  all  set- 
tled in  San  Francisco,  where  there  would  be  no  obstacle 
through  prejudice  of  class  or  creed  or  race.  He  knew 
that  she  was  bearing  him  a  child  that  would  be  his  first- 
born. He  would  not,  he  never  could  desert  any  one  de- 
pendent on  him.  He  left  her  with  ample  means  of  sup- 
port till  he  should  send  for  her.  But  despair  seized  her 
on  his  departure,  and,  in  company  with  a  brother  and  an 
old  aunt,  her  only  near  relatives,  shortly  afterwards  she 
set  out  to  follow  him,  hoping  blindly  to  reach  the  coast 
before  my  father  had  met  a  steamer. 

She  failed  to  find  my  father  or  any  trace  of  him. 
Probably,  in  her  want  of  knowledge,  she  went  wide  of  the 
place  to  which  he  had  gone.  She  had  come  to  the  sea- 
board at  a  village  where  no  steamer  ever  stopped.  In  a 
small  sailing-craft,  scarcely  more  than  an  open  boat,  she 
took  passage  with  her  companions,  trying  to  reach  a  sea- 
port more  in  touch  with  the  world.  Disastrous  trip! 
The  boat  was  blown  out  to  sea.  The  brother  and  the  two 
boatmen  were  washed  overboard  and  drowned.  My 
mother  and  the  aunt  in  the  half-swamped  craft  were 
picked  up  by  a  schooner  trading  along  the  Mexican  coast 
from  port  to  port.  It  was  going  northward  till  it  should 
make  steamer-connection  with  San  Francisco  at  Mazat- 
lan.  But  strange  enough  before  they  reached  Mazatlan, 
at  some  harbor-town,  may  be  Manzanillo,  there  came  on 
board  Richard  Alanus. 

He  had  embarked  and  gone  with  my  father  as  far  as 
Mazatlan  on  board  the  mail-steamer.  At  that  place, 
during  the  few  hours'  stay  there,  he  had  secretly  gone 
ashore,  letting  the  steamer  depart  without  him.  A  mere 
mistake  or  misunderstanding  he  claimed  afterwards  it 
had  been,  hut  it  most  certainly  was  another  one  of  his 
often  so  very  silly  schemes  to  annoy  and  distress  my 
father.  He  was  forced  to  proceed  on  his  way  in  all 
the  ]ierturl.ation  and  anxiety  the  discovery  of  Richard's 

i8 


CHROXICLES  OF  MAXL'LL  ALANUS 

absence  after  the  departure  of  the  vessel  occasioned 
him.  Nor  did  Richard  follow  in  the  next  steamer.  He 
afterwards  gave  out  that  he  had  been  persuaded  to  a  trip 
into  the  interior  to  look  at  some  mining  property  and  on 
account  of  fever  breaking  out  at  Mazatlan  had  returned 
to  the  coast  at  another  place,  where,  going  on  board  a 
schooner  just  arrived  to  see  about  securing  passage  in 
her  to  some  place  in  Upper  California  if  not  to  San  Fran- 
cisco itself,  he  met  my  mother. 

To  her  he  pretended  that  he  had  been  left  behind  by  my 
father,  who,  somehow  informed  of  her  coming,  had  com- 
missioned him  to  look  for  her  and  bring  her  on  to  San 
Francisco. 

Afraid  of  his  life  to  stay  on  the  fever-infested  coast, 
news  of  the  fever  spreading  down  the  coast  having  been 
received,  he  arranged  to  charter  the  schooner  to  leave  im- 
mediately, and  which  was  to  take  them  direct  to  San 
Francisco. 

My  mother  had  no  acquaintance  with  Richard  Alanus 
any  more  than  knowing  who  he  was.  She,  of  course, 
was  overjoyed  at  his  appearance,  more  yet  at  his  com- 
munications and  representations,  and  she  was  only  too 
willing  to  let  him  have  the  main  part  of  the  money  in  her 
possession  to  perfect  his  arrangements  for  the  voyage  with 
the  master  of  the  schooner.  She  now  felt  herself  lifted 
out  of  her  despair  and  placed  securely  under  the  pro- 
tection of  one  who  would  safely  bring  her  to  my  father 
and  with  fair  prospects  of  reaching  him  before  the  birth 
of  the  child. 

But  new  sufferings  were  in  store  for  her,  nothing  but 
sufferings.  The  old  aunt,  never  having  recovered  from  the 
terrible  hours  of  exposure  in  the  open  boat,  died  when 
they  were  barely  out  of  sight  of  her  native  land.  Not 
lonsf  after  Richard  began  to  show  himself  in  his  true 
colors.  Soon  my  mother  had  to  defend  herself  at  night 
with  the  weapon  she  always  carried,  against  his  brutal 

19 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

advances.  Then  came  storm  and  shipwreck.  Somewhere 
on  the  bare  stretch  of  sunburnt  coast,  north  of  San 
Diego,  they  were  cast  away.  The  vessel  went  to  pieces 
in  the  breakers.  All  perished  but  my  mother  and  Richard 
Alanus.  They  gained  the  beach  alive.  And  on  that 
desert  strand  after  robbing  her  of  the  few  trinkets  and 
pieces  of  jewelry  and  the  little  remaining  money  she  had 
on  her  person,  he  left  her  exhausted  nearly  to  insen- 
sibility. And  in  case  of  her  recovering,  he  tried  to  inflict 
a  foul  hurt  to  make  death  probable  to  two  lives.  Thus 
he  left  my  mother  and  ultimately  he  reached  San  Fran- 
cisco safe  and  sound  with  the  account  of  the  shipwreck 
and  the  lie  of  my  mother's  death,  delivering  to  my  father 
as  proofs,  the  small,  gold  crucifix  worn  by  my  mother  on 
her  breast  and  the  ring  of  troth,  given  her  by  my  father, 
neither  of  which,  he  was  persuaded,  she  would  have 
parted  with  while  she  lived. 

My  mother  was  found  by  some  natives  who  had  been 
attracted  to  the  place  by  the  wreckage.  They  started  to 
conduct  her  to  their  camp,  a  little  distance  inland  on  a 
creek,  which  emptied  into  the  sea  round  the  nearest  bluff. 
But  she  soon,  in  premature  labor,  sank  to  the  ground. 
And  there  in  the  hot  sand,  near  the  lapping  edge  of  the 
tumbling  sea,  some  of  the  squaws  assisting,  I  was  born. 
My  mother  and  I  were  afterwards  brought  to  the  camp 
where  we  remained  till  I  was  about  two  years  old.  I 
grew  up  with  the  native  children,  like  them,  I  suppose, 
digging  for  shellfish  in  the  mud-banks  of  the  shallow 
creek,  wading  in  the  surf,  hanging  onto  the  ponies,  run- 
ning with  the  dogs  and  catching  grasshoppers  on  the  mesa. 

When  Richard  Alanus  poured  that  drug  down  my 
throat  and  it  first  took  effect,  bringing  on  that  hellish 
dream  that  for  years  after  was  to  be  the  bane  of  my 
sleep,  there  appeared  to  me  in  the  fire  of  the  dream,  like  a 
picture,  a  stretch  of  sea-coast  which  was,  I  always  believe, 
the  spot  near  the  native  camp  where  I  was  born — a  sandy 

20 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

beach  along  the  dazzHng  surf,  bending  in  a  gentle  sweep 
to  a  rocky  point  at  either  end.  A  bank  of  yellow,  clayish 
rock  facing  the  sea,  rose  from  the  beach  to  a  slightly 
curving  and  much  broken  top,  the  edge  of  the  mesa.  It 
was  a  wavy  plain  of  dry  grass  and  brush,  dotted  with 
clumps  of  live  oaks,  dark  and  round-topped,  extending 
back  to  a  range  of  bare,  drab-colored  hills,  hardly  standing 
out  from  the  m.ore  distant  mountains  which  were  all  faint 
and  pale  in  misty  haze  and  thickenings  of  fog  here  and 

there.  . 

Perhaps  something  happened  there  some  time  m  those 
first  years  of  my  life :  a  grass-fire  along  the  edge  of  the 
mesa,  a  fire  of  driftwood  on  the  beach,  a  burning  ship 
near  the  shore  or,  rarest  of  all  a  thunderstorm,  somethmg 
that  lent  its  form  and  color  to  the  working  of  the  drug. 
But  I  remember  no  such  occurrence. 

Still  I  have  a  recollection  of  the  camp:  a  few  hutlike 
windbreaks  of  driftwood,  dry  brush  and  grass  on  an  easy 
slope  of  ground  behind  the  swelling  bluff.  It  was  set 
with  scattered  bushes  and  trees.  There  was  a  break  in 
the  clay-bank,  opening  toward  the  ocean,  where  the  waters 
of  a  little  creek  during  the  rainy  season  came  winding 
round  and  spreading  thinly  over  the  sand  of  the  beach 
and  ran  into  the  sea.  . 

:^Iy  mother  was  verv  ill  after  ni)-  birth  and  remained 
lame  and  at  times  more  than  half  blind,  although  her  eyes 
showed  no  sign  of  disease. 

The  only,  only  part  of  her  my  memory  retains  is  her 

mild,  brown  eyes! 

One  day  a  white  man  with  his  pack  on  his  back  came 
to  the  camp.  He  was  a  miner  who  had  been  prospecting 
for  gold  far  south,  back  of  San  Diego,  an  Englishman 
named  Thomson.  He  was  without  much  means,  but 
he  took  my  mother  and  me  from  the  natives  and  brought 
us  first  to  one  place,  then  another,  an  old  Califor- 
nian  ^Mission  where  I  was  baptized.     From  place  to  place, 

21 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

remaining  longer  and  shorter  here  and  there,  finally  we 
reached  San  Francisco.  He  wanted  to  fully  espouse  our 
cause,  find  my  father  and  make  him  right  my  mother 
and  me. 

It  was  not  pity  he  took  on  us,  it  was  not  kindness  of 
heart  he  felt,  nor  was  it  mercenary  speculation.  It  was 
the  conceit  of  doing  something  very  laudable,  very  right, 
very  chivalric.  He  was  always  doing  what  was  right.  He 
always  knew  what  was  right. 

He  was  a  man  of  preconceived  ideas,  or  rather  of  first 
ideas,  first  impressions.  As  he  first  saw  a  thing  so  he 
understood  it  to  be  and  brought  to  his  reasoning,  not 
knowledge,  but  remembrance  of  something  he  had  once 
read  or  learned  or  heard,  and  nothing  could  change  his 
opinions  once  formed. 

He  knew  just  enough  Spanish  to  misunderstand  three 
fourths  of  our  story.  It  was  conventional  enough  to 
suit  his  mind  which  never  could  grasp  anything  else, 
and  he  never  come  to  understand  the  story  differently. 
Richard  Alanus  was  to  him  my  father.  He  had  misun- 
derstood it  to  be  so  at  first  and  Richard  remained  to 
him  my  father  to  his  last  hour.  He  found  me,  I  sup- 
pose, a  silent  little  brat  with  questioning  eyes  and  quiet, 
self-contained  ways,  and  put  me  down  as  secretive, 
crafty,  false,  and  such  to  him  I  always  was.  Of  course, 
without  him  I  might  never  have  been  anything  but  a 
Californian  half-breed,  living  and  dying  a  hanger-on  to 
somebody  at  some  place  in  the  Southern  part  of  the 
State.  But  on  the  other  hand,  when  he  took  me  away 
from  the  Mexican  children's  troupe,  he  did  what  makes 
us  even. 

In  San  Francisco  it  was  easy  enough  for  him  to  find 
Richard  Alanus  but  beyond  that  he  never  advanced. 
My  mother  was  now  steadily  confined  to  her  bed,  her 
eyes  altogether  sightless,  though  never  losing  their  mild 
beauty.     Thomson   did  all   the   housework   for   us.     He 

22 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

was  constantly  in  straitened  circumstances,  in  fact 
without  any  money  at  all  except  what  he  received  in  well 
calculated  insufficiency  from  Richard. 

My  father  was  at  the  time  about  to  marry,  and  to 
Richard  the  whole  affair  was  the  most  delightful  game 
he  ever  played.  Nothing  was  easier  for  him  than  to  fool 
Thompson  and  keep  that  blockhead  from  ever  com- 
municating with  other  persons.  And  if  my  mother  would 
only  live  a  little  while  longer,  till  after  the  wedding,  what 
an  opportunity  he  would  then  have  to  enjoy  the  trouble, 
torment,  pain  and  unhappiness  he  could  have  created 
for  my  father.  But  while  he  was  giving  all  his  attention 
to  my  father's  marriage  and  had  gone  for  some  weeks 
to  my  father's  countryplace  in  the  upper  Santa  Clara 
valley,  where  the  nuptials  were  to  take  place,  my  mother 
died.  When  he  returned  to  town  he  found  her  buried. 
Thomson,  dead  broke,  had  gone  to  some  new  gold- 
diggings.  The  child,  who  was  then  perhaps  three  years 
old,  was  not  to  be  found,  in  all  probability  he  thought 
had  been  taken  along  by  Thomson. 

My  father's  wife!  She  was  little  Harry's,  my  brother's, 
mother  and  when  I  meet  him  I  will  tear  all  this  out  of 
my  brain  and  think  of  her  only  as  his  mother. 

But  was  she  not  Cora's  mother  as  well? 

What  deceits  were  practised  to  bring  about  this  mar- 
riage I  cannot  at  all  think.  Still  my  father  must  have 
been  in  love  with  her  too. 

She  was  a  young  woman  of  great  prettiness  of  face 
and  figure,  of  good  birth  and  very  poor.  She  was  not 
without  a  certain  ladylike  manner,  or  perhaps,  it  should 
rather  be  called  a  natural  gracefulness  of  motion,  ges- 
tures, posture.  She  had  very  little  heart.  To  me  it 
is  often  difficult  to  believe  such  a  state  possible.  When 
she  came  where  my  father  lay  dying  in  my  arms,  his 
head  on  my  shoulder,  his  hand  to  my  cheek  to  touch 
the  face  his  breaking  eye  could  no  longer  see,  all  she  did 

23 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

was  to  smile  and  say:  '*Does  he  not  die  hard!"  When 
Harry,  Httle  mite  of  a  thing,  only  just  able  to  walk,  had 
his  foot  crushed  and  thereby  lost  his  leg,  while  he  was 
trying  to  rise,  being  such  a  brave  little  fellow,  struggling, 
bleeding,  her  own  baby,  she  laughed,  because  it  looked 
so   funny. 

Yet  she  was  not  cruel.  That  time,  in  the  room  where 
Richard  Alanus  had  me  captive,  in  the  house  where  the 
guilty  pair  used  to  have  their  secret  meetings,  she  would 
not  take  the  cane  to  beat  me  when  he  urged  her  to  do  so. 
Cora  did.     Cora  was  cruel.     But  she  was  not  cruel. 

She  was  a  silly,  babyish  person,  ignorant  of  almost 
everything  and  without  understanding  and  judgment  or 
even  ordinary  or  moral  sense.  But  she  was  not  immod- 
est. And  she  had  talent  for  music.  She  did  not  know  a 
note  but  she  sung  by  ear  sweetly  and  correctly  and  accom- 
panied herself  tastefully  on  various  instruments  without 
ever  having  received  any  instruction.  In  speaking,  how- 
ever, her  voice  sounded  harsh  and  screechy. 

Her  beauty  and  her  shapeliness!  Her  graceful  way! 
Her  pretty  singing!  What  more?  She  was  poor.  She 
had  a  dismal  home.  Her  stepfather  was  a  lawyer  of  the 
dissolute  type  of  this  country ;  her  stepmother,  his  third 
of  fourth  wife  was  a  vulgar,  jealous  woman  who  treated 
her  most  meanly.  I  think  the  first  step  toward  falHng 
in  love  with  her  was  the  pity  my  father  felt  for  her. 

Richard  Alanus  had  boasted  of  receiving  her  favor  be- 
fore her  marriage  and  she  gave  birth  to  a  daughter  not 
six  months  after  she  had  wedded  my  father.  But  not 
even  then  did  my  father  suspect  her,  and  fond  as  he  was 
of  children,  especially  girls,  what  joy  to  him  was  this  baby- 
girl,  Cora.  She  had  the  silkiest  of  blond  hair,  the  frank- 
est of  pale,  gray  eyes  and  the  loveliest  of  pouting  mouths. 
Any  illusion  he  had  about  his  wife  soon  vanished  and  he 
saw  that  he  had  been  blind,  had  blindly  deceived  himself, 
that  the  woman  he  was  married  to  could  not  make  him 

24 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

happy  in  any  possible  way.  Yet  not  Ijlaming  her,  not 
blaming  any  other  one,  true  to  his  nature  he  took  all  the 
blame  upon  himself,  trying  not  to  let  her  suffer  for  his 
mistake,  trying  to  give  her  at  least  what  comfort  and 
pleasure  of  life  he  could  provide,  indulging  her,  trusting 
her  and  caring  for  her  now,  on  Cora's  account  perhaps 
more  than  ever  before. 

When  he  had  been  married  several  years  a  rumor  came 
to  him,  vague  and  untraceable,  that  my  mother  had  not 
perished  in  the  shipwreck,  but  that  she  had  died  at  one 
of  the  old  Mission-places  on  the  coast  giving  birth  to  a 
boy  and  that  the  child  was  living  somewhere  near  his 
birthplace.  Upon  hearing  this  he  immediately  proceed- 
ed on  a  trip  of  inquiry  down  the  coast.  At  almost  the 
first  place  he  visited,  he  found  with  the  name  of  the 
mother,  Manuela  Eguren  and  his  own  name  as  that  of  the 
father,  the  record  of  the  date  of  the  birth  and  the  baptism 
of  a  boy  named  for  father  and  mother :  Manuel  Enrique 
Egueren  y  Alanus,  my  name,  his  son's. 

Further  inquiry  among  the  native  population  of  the 
neighborhood  brought  forth  but  little  additional  informa- 
tion. My  mother  has  stayed  quite  a  w^hile  there.  She 
has  been  very  ill,  but  her  death  has  not  taken  place 
there.  Her  little  son  had  been  known  to  have  five,  little, 
brown  birthmark-spots  in  a  peculiar  cluster  on  the  right 
hip.  She  had  come  to  the  place  under  the  protection  of  a 
man  with  a  big,  red  beard  and  an  ugly,  scarred  eyebrow, 
an  Englishman,  and  they  have  all  gone  away  to  the  city,  to 
San  Francisco,  years  ago. 

As  soon  as  he  returned  to  San  Francisco,  my  father 
began  searching  for  his  wife  and  child.  But  according  to 
his  nature  he  could  confide  his  secret  to  but  few.  At  best 
it  was  an  awkward  matter  which  might  lead  to  family 
discord  and  his  losing  Cora.  But  try  to  find  us,  he  must 
and  take  care  of  us  and  see  to  his  child's  future,  that  was 
his  duty. 

25 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

He  did  not  make  Richard  his  confidant.  Never  had 
he  been  that  to  him.  But  as  this  first  rumor  must  have 
been  started  by  Richard,  so  as  on  every  occasion  v^hen  he 
could  do  anything  to  give  pain  to  the  tenderest  heart  he 
did  so  now.  If  only  indirectly  he  still  misled,  gave  false 
clews,  started  wrong  reports,  raised  hopes  one  day  to 
destroy  them  the  next;  and  it  was  undoubtedly  he  who 
made  my  father  discover  what  seemed  to  be  on  the  best 
of  evidence  that  I  had  died  a  miserable  death  from  want 
and  neglect  among  the  rag-pickers  on  the  dumps. 

At  that  time  Richard  had  prepared  to  strike  his  last, 
great  blow :  the  embezzlements  of  large  sums  of  money 
belonging  to  the  firm,  which  he  knew  my  father  would 
take  upon  himself  to  make  good.  And  he  farther  planned 
to  elope  with  my  father's  wife,  carrying  off  Cora  with 
her.  It  was  all  to  descend  on  my  father  at  once.  But 
the  plan  failed.  And  although  no  case  in  law  could  be,  or 
at  least  ever  was  made  out  against  Richard,  and  he  con- 
tinued to  live  in  the  city  established  in  some  business 
of  his  own,  the  breach  with  my  father  and  the  disrup- 
tion of  the  former  business-relations  were  complete.  My 
father  became  sole  head  of  the  reorganized  business. 
Cora  and  her  mother  remained  with  him,  and  Richard 
was  for  once  worsted.  It  was  a  collection-business  that 
Richard  went  into,  and  many  times  have  I  been  told  that 
he  made  a  very  good  collector  and  would  have  done  well 
as  such,  only  that  he  never  could  keep  straight,  always 
must  be  crooked  in  all  his  dealings. 

Never  quite  free  from  a  homesick  melancholy,  unhappy 
in  his  married  life,  afflicted  by  the  last,  irremediable  break 
with  his  halfbrother  and  mourning  in  bitter  grief  and 
self-reproach  my  and  my  mother's  death,  my  father  now 
would  have  days  when  even  his  blind  love  and  devotion  to 
Cora  could  not  lift  the  pall  of  sorrow  from  his  soul. 
Outside  of  business  and  business-hours  he  would  seclude 
himself,  keep  awav  from  home  and  friends  and  by  him- 

26 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

self  stroll  the  lowlier  streets  of  the  older  parts  of  the 
town,  as  if  to  lose  himself  among  the  commoner  people 
there,  mostly  foreign-born,  where  nobody  would  know 
him,  and  where  his  fondness  for  children  could  be  given 
plenty  of  play  among  the  shoals  of  little  ones,  where  he 
could  make  friends  with  some  who  pleased  him  most. 
But  he  was  always  soon  moving  on,  shy  of  observation. 

If  there  was  any  lingering  hope  in  him  that  I  was 
alive  and  that  he  might  yet  come  across  me,  he  was  un- 
conscious of  it.  And  when  he  did  meet  me,  there  was 
nothing  within  him  or  without,  no  recognition  of  the 
little  though  not  striking  likeness  to  my  mother,  no  asso- 
ciation of  my,  if  slight,  still  evident  olive  tint  of  tropical 
blood,  of  my  age,  my  name,  my  language,  characteristics 
that  he  knew  were  his  son's,  to  suggest  to  him  who  I  was. 

To  be  sure  I  was  small  for  my  age.  It  was  only  in 
prison  that  I  grew  to  middle  height.  I  was  thin.  At 
this  time  I  passed  for  from  one  to  two  years  younger 
than  I  was  and  often  was  wondered  at  for  my  strength 
and  endurance.  And  when  asked  who  my  father  was, 
I  always  named  Jim,  the  bricklayer,  whom  all  we  children 
in  the  house  called  father,  although  I  knew  very  well  that 
he  was  not  my  real  father.  And  of  my  name  I  knew  but 
Manuel.  Still  the  very  fact  of  my  knowing  no  other 
name  of  mine  but  that,  might  have  led  to  its  being  no- 
ticed and  given  rise  to  a  combination  of  ideas. 

But  if  my  father  did  not  make  the  discovery  himself 
it  would  have  been  disclosed  to  him  in  time.  And  even 
if  it  had  not  been  made  at  all,  he  would  have  taken  me 
to  him,  his  affection  for  me  increasing  on  seeing  my 
child-attachment  to  him  growing  so  strong.  He  had  al- 
ready selected  a  place  for  me  to  have  as  a  home  where  I 
could  grow  up  under  better  conditions  of  life,  when  that 
destroyer  of  both  our  lives  stepped  in  again  between  us. 

To  go  back  a  little  with  my  story,  I  had  been  given  by 
Thomson  upon  his  departure  into  the  charge  of  a  Mexican 

27 


CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

woman,  Adelita,  with  whom  he  had  a  passing  acquaint- 
ance. From  whose  rooms,  baclv  of  the  old  jail,  upon 
her  dying  suddenly,  almost  immediately  afterwards,  i 
was  taken  by  her  sister,  the  Dark  Woman,  to  her  home 
with  Jim,  the  bricklayer  in  the  wooden  hovel  on  the  nar- 
row alley,  somewhere  off  Pacific  street,  above  Stockton 
or  Powell  street.  She  already  had  her  three,  or  perhaps 
four  sets  of  children,  by  different  former  husbands  and 
all  we  children  were  employed  all  the  time  in  foraging 
for  firewood  and  kitchen-supplies,  chiefly  amongst  the 
Italian  vegetable-gardeners  and  fishermen  who  seemed  to 
be  old-time  acquaintances  of  the  Dark  Woman. 

W^hen  Jim,  the  bricklayer,  had  deserted  her  and  us 
children,  I  was  taken,  together  with  the  eldest  girl,  the 
oldest  one  of  all  the  children,  by  her  father,  Antonio,  an 
Italian  vegetable-man  to  his  gardens  or  fields  somewhere 
outside  the  city,  where  there  were  many  windmills, 
and  where  I  had  to  work  so  hard  and  learned  so  much  of 
gardening  work,  even  small  as  I  was,  that  I  afterwards 
found  it  easy  to  acquire  good  skill  in  the  handicraft. 

From  Antonio  I  came,  I  never  remembered  how,  but 
1  believe  by  simple  transfer,  to  Nick  and  Nello,  the  two 
Spanish  boatmen  and  fishermen  on  the  old,  long  wharf 
reaching  far  out  over  the  waters  of  the  bay,  with  a  branch 
extending  still  farther.  Fishermen  and  boatmen  they 
were  in  name  only.  They  never  went  out  in  them  but 
kept  a  few  boats  for  rent  by  the  hour  or  day.  Neither 
did  they  ever  do  any  fishing,  but  merely  kept  fishing  tackle 
for  hire  and  sold  bait  to  people  who  came,  principally  on 
Sundays,  to  angle  for  perch  and  smelt.  They  also  kept 
hoop-nets  with  meat  tied  in  them,  to  let  to  those  who 
wanted  to  fish  for  crabs.  I  was  made  to  fish  for  crabs 
for  them  to  sell,  and  I  always  cooked  some  of  our  meals 
as  well.  Nick  might  sometimes  give  a  look  if  I  had  at- 
tended to  the  nets  and  was  keeping  them  well  mended,  but 

28 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

Nello  did  not  even  do  that.     He  was  lazy.     They  were 
both  lazy  and  shiftless. 

And  on  the  old  wharf,  work-boy  for  those  two  men, 
my  father  came  upon  me. 

Later  when  he  told  it,  years  later  in  the  happy,  happy 
days  that  were  to  end  so  soon,  when  he  had  me  with 
him    when   he   could   revel   in   the   recollection   of   that 
sweet,  short  time,  he  felt  certain  he  could  fix  the  very 
day  he  first  saw  me  and  would  indulge  hmiself  m  the 
remembrance  of  every  detail  of  it:   One  of  the  beautiful 
days  so  plentiful  in  most  parts  of  Califorma,  so  rare  in 
San  Francisco,  when  everything  seems  to  stand  rapt  m  the 
crystal  stillness  of  the  air  and  the  silent,  thronging  sun- 
shine; a  Sunday  after  the  heavy,  later  rains  of  the  sea- 
son when  every  one  is  out  of  doors,  he  had  come  strolling 
as  far  as  the  old,  long  wharf  where  he  found  many  people 
fishing,  some  looking  on,  others  watching  parties  in  the 
boats  on  the  quietlv  gliding  water,  or  at  distant  ships  at 
anchor,  others  whollv  idle,  lounging  in  the  sun.      ihere 
were  so  many  he  could  be  sure  of  being  able  to  mmgle 
with  them  unobserved.     He  immediately  became   inter- 
ested in  the  doings  of  a  small  boy  whose  services  seemed 
to  be  in  great  demand  by  all  the  crowd  which  was  densest 
in  a  neighborhood  of  a  little  shanty  built  on  the  wharf 
where   a    side-wharf   branched    off    at   an   angle.     Calls 
came-  "Boy!    Boy!    Manuel!"  from  all  quarters  without 
intermission,  demanding  fishing  rods  to  let  with  tackle 
and  bait.     He  would  fix  the  bait,  receive  the  money,  run 
with  it  to  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  the  master  and  was 
sitting  on  a  short  bench  alongside  the  open  door  of  the 
shanty,  smoking  a  clay  pipe,  get  the  change   from  him 
and  run  with  it  to  the  customers,  change  the  rods,  fix  the 
returned-ones  afresh,  run  at  the  call  of  an  angler  to  take 
a  landed  fish  off  the  hook  and  bait  the  hook  anew  for  him, 
haul  up  the  hoopnets  to  take  out  the  crabs ;  let  down  the 
nets  again  and  run  with  the  crabs  in  a  basket  to  another 

29 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

man  who  also  seemed  to  be  master  and  sat  inside  the 
shanty  on  a  chair  with  his  feet  up  on  the  cook-stove 
smoking  a  wooden  pipe! 

Behind  the  shanty  there  was  a  space  with  an  open  shed, 
like  a  yard,  only  not  fenced  in,  extending  to  the  end  of  the 
wharf.  There  were  boatsteps  quite  at  the  end  and  davits. 
And  here  was  more  work  for  the  boy :  climbing  down  the 
steps  to  receive  an  incoming  boat,  tie  the  painter,  wipe 
the  thwarts,  collect  the  fare  in  advance  from  the  next 
boating  party,  fetch  the  change,  push  her  off,  then  to  come 
up  the  steps  and  go  right  away  down  again,  to  go  sculling 
in  a  boat  to  pick  up  a  hat  fallen  overboard ;  to  change  the 
oars  in  another  boat  and  put  cushions  on  the  seats  for  a 
large  boating  party  of  ladies  and  children  as  well  as  men ; 
carry  down  their  heavy  lunchbasket  and  very  carefully  a 
little  baby-girl  with  all  her  frocks  and  capes  nearly  as  big 
as  herself ;  up  and  down  the  steps  scores  of  times,  till  my 
father  thought  the  short  legs,  though  looking  firmly 
enough  built,  must  give  out.  His  heart  took  pity  on  the 
boy,  of  course,  at  once,  more  since  the  boy  seemed  to  be 
really  willing  and  in  his  silent  way  obliging,  answering 
promptly  every  call,  trying  conscientiously  to  satisfy 
everybody  and  doing  patiently  all  that  the  people  wanted 
sometimes  over  and  over  again,  and  not  with  halfhearted- 
ness,  nor  with  obtrusion,  but  with  a  sort  of  modebt  eager- 
ness, in  spite  of  his  sullen  looks ! 

Even  with  the  bigger  young  fellows,  of  whom  there 
were  a  good  many,  hanging  chiefly  round  the  boatsteps, 
wrangling  and  fooling  and  apparently  always  on  the  point 
of  a  serious  quarrel,  the  small  boy  managed  to  get  along, 
he  minding  them  but  little.  Only  once  there  was  a  little 
disturbance.  A  big  boy  had  grabbed  the  little  fellow's 
hat  and  thrown  it  from  him  till  it  came  near  going  over- 
board, when  another  boy,  not  quite  so  big  as  the  first 
one  and  younger  looking  but  quite  large,  finely  grown, 

30 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

broad-shouldered  and  very  handsome,  all  pink  and  white 
came  forward  shouting  to  the  first  one: 

"Pick  up  that  hat!  Hand  it  back  now!  Now,  if  you 
don't  want  your  damned  head  punched,  you  leave  that 
kid  alone!" 

The  other  one  had  handed  back  the  hat,  saying  some- 
thing of  having  been  only   funning.     And  then  it  was 

all  over. 

In   the    middle   of   the   afternoon   this   brisk   business 
slackened.    The  people  began  to  leave.    First  several,  then 
more  and  more  till  but  a  few  stragglers  remained.     But 
before    sundown   all    had   gone   except   my    father,   who 
standing,  half  hiding  by  a  spile-head  of  the  side-wharf, 
still  watched  the  boy  in  whose  work  there  was  even  yet  no 
let-up.     He  now  had  to  go  down  into  the  boats,  scrub  and 
wash  tliem  out  and  bring  them  up  to  the  davits,  clear  and 
hook  the  tackles  and  help  to  hoist  them  up,  pulling,  hang- 
ing to  the  tackle-falls  with  his  small  weight,  coming  up  in 
the  boats  from  the  water.     The  two  men,  after  the  hoist- 
ing, went  back  into  the  shanty,  their  share  of  the  day's 
work  being  done,  leaving  the  boy  to  draw,  the  plugs,  let 
the  water  out  of  the  boats,  bring  in  the  oars  and  coil  up 
the  gear.     After  that  he  had  to  carry  all  the  fishing  rods 
from  their  outside  stands  into  the  shed,  haul  up  and  clean 
and  hang  up  the  nets,  tidy  up  and  sweep  the  yard  and  the 
place  in  front  of  the  shanty.    And  when  all  this  was  done 
and  he  had  washed  himself  in  a  tin  basin  on  a  shelf  just 
inside  the  shed,  and  nothing  more  seemed  possibly  neces- 
sary for  him  to  do,  he  hitched  himself  to  a  little  wagon 
with  a  sort  of  harness  over  his  shoulders  and  under  his 
arms  and  went  the  whole  length  of  the  wharf  to  fetch  two 
buckets  full  of  drinking-water  from  a  liverystable  near 
the  foot  of  the  wharf.     H:e  went  on  a  half-run,  but  came 
back  at  a  slow  pace,  so  as  not  to  spill  the  water.     One 
bucket  he  handed  in  to  the  men  in  the  shanty,  the  other  he 
took  into  the  open  shed. 

31 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

He  then  put  up  his  wagon  in  the  shed  and  came  and 
sat  himself  down  quietly  on  the  bench  by  the  closed  door 
of  the  shanty  in  the  darkening  of  the  evening. 

He  sat  there  so  long,  so  still,  gradually  fading  into  a 
mere  blotch  of  shadow,  my  father  thought  sometimes  he 
must  have  slipped  away  unseen  by  him,  or  gone  to  sleep, 
only  that  once  in  a  long  while  he  saw  his  head  move  a 
little  against  the  yellow  line  of  light  gleaming  through 
the  chink  of  the  door. 

And  night  had  fallen  quite  clear  and  calm.  Stars  glit- 
tered in  the  sky  down  to  the  black  hills  all  around,  and 
joined  the  many  lights  in  the  city  across  the  dark  and 
faintly  glistening  water. 

My  father  was  wondering  what  the  boy  might  be  think- 
ing of,  and  whether  he  had  noticed  him  and  was  specu- 
lating about  the  men  as  he  was  about  the  boy;  and  if  the 
boy  was  not  unhappy  sometimes,  and  if  something  could 
not  be  done  to  make  him  happy,  if  he  was  unhappy;  and 
if  one  of  the  men  in  the  shanty  was  his  father,  which  he 
thought  very  improbable,  or  who  and  where  his  father 
might  be ;  or  if  he  had  no  father  and  mother,  like  himself. 

And  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  time  when  he  had 
been  a  boy  like  this  one  on  the  small  peasant  farm  in  Tus- 
cany, and  a  man  had  come  to  see  him  several  times  and 
had  been  very  kind  to  him,  and  at  last  had  taken  him  away 
with  him  to  be  his  father.  And  in  the  loneliness  of  his 
soul  he  felt  again  as  he  had  done  from  time  to  time 
almost  all  his  life  and  lately,  oftener  than  ever,  that  it 
might  have  been  better  had  he  been  left  with  the  poor 
peasant-people  and  grown  up  to  be  a  poor  hard-working 
peasant  himself. 

At  last  the  door  of  the  shanty  opened,  letting  out  a 
great  burst  of  light,  and  one  of  the  men  handed  the  boy 
a  tin-pan,  the  light  shining  on  it,  saying,  **Here !  That  is 
all  there  is  left!"  And  the  door  had  closed  again,  leav- 
ing it  so  dark  my   father  could  not   see  the  boy  at  all 

32 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

for  a  little  time  till  he  caught  sight  of  him  moving,  going 
to  the  rear  of  the  shanty.  And  he  had  an  attack  of  bold- 
ness to  follow  him  as  far  as  the  yard-place.  There  he 
heard  him  in  the  shed  hanging  up  a  tin  dipper  or  some 
vessel  like  that,  as  if  he  had  been  drinking  some  water. 
Presently  he  came  into  the  open  again  and  saw  my  father 
standing  there,  close  by. 

He  did  not  seem  in  the  least  afraid  or  to  think  it 
strange  that  somebody  should  be  there  but  stood  indiffer- 
ent, looking  up  a  moment  at  the  Evening  Star,  then  at  its 
brightest,  and  at  its  blurred  reflection  on  the  eddying 
water  below,  and  then  at  the  stars  above,  and  around,  as 
if  comparing  it  to  some  of  them. 

Then  my  father  plucked  up  more  boldness  and  spoke 
to  him,  saying  that  he  must  be  tired.  But  being  nervous 
at  his  own  boldness,  he  spoke  indistinctly,  and  the  boy 
merely  turned  his  head  a  little  as  if  not  understanding 
or  not  sure  of  having  been  spoken  to  and  did  not  answer. 
This  so  abashed  my  father  it  took  him  some  seconds  to 
recover  till  he  could  very  meekly  ask,  "Are  you  hungry  ?" 
And  the  boy  very  simply  answered,  "Yes!" 

Just  at  that  moment  the  boy  was  called  by  the  men 
to  wash  the  supper-dishes,  which  he  started  to  do  right 
away  in  a  large  tin  pan  on  the  bench  in  the  light  of  the 
open  door  of  the  shanty,  while  my  father,  anger  in  his 
heart  with  the  men  and  filled  with  sore  pity  for  the  boy, 
hurried  off  ashore  to  buy  at  the  nearest  places  he  found 
open  some  fruit  and  bread  and  two  hard-boiled  eggs,  all  he 
could  get,  and  some  slices  of  boiled  ham,  and  went  back  to 
give  it  to  the  boy.  But  hurry  as  he  would,  it  took  so  long 
to  get  it  and  the  distance  was  so  great,  that  when  he  came 
out  again  to  the  shanty,  all  within  and  without  was  silence 
and  darkness. 

He  laid  the  package  on  the  bench  where  the  boy 
might  find  it  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  feeling  sure 
that  he  would  be  the  first  one  up  and  out.    But  it  came  to 

33 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

him  that  if  he  put  the  things  in  the  wagon  it  would  be 
more  clear  that  they  were  to  be  the  boy's.  So  he  went 
to  the  yard  and  into  the  shed,  feeling  cautiously  with  his 
feet  for  the  wagon.  He  came  against  some  boat-sails 
lying  stowed  away  in  one  corner,  and  stretching  out  his 
arm  to  keep  from  falling,  laid  his  open  hand  right  on  the 
boy's  head.     For  this  was  the  boy's  sleeping  place 

Such  a  sensation  of  joyous  satisfaction  came  to  my 
father,  he  almost  sat  down  squarely  on  the  boy  and  only 
just  managed  to  clear  him  by  a  little.  But  the  boy  was 
as  before  not  in  the  least  startled,  though  awakened  and 
sitting  up  immediately,  onlv  asked,  very  simply  again, 
"What  is  it?" 

My  father  told  him  that  he  was  the  man  who  had 
spoken  to  him  a  little  while  ago  and  that  he  had  brought 
him  something  to  eat  as  he  had  said  that  he  was  hungry. 
And  he  felt  for  the  boy's  arms  and  put  the  paperbag 
with  the  things  in  his  hands. 

"Is  this  mine?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Yes!" 

"Mine,  alone?" 

"Yes,  yours  alone!  Nobody's  but  yours.  I  bought  it 
with  my  money  and  brought  it  to  you  because  you  are 
hungry.     I  give  it  to  you  to  eat.     Now  eat!" 

And  the  boy  commenced  to  eat  without  another  word. 
My  father  grew  quite  bold  in  the  utter  darkness  with  the 
bov  alone,  and  putting  his  hand  on  his  head,  stroked  his 
hair  and  neck.  And  thus  feeling  how  greedily  the  child 
was  eating,  he  told  him  not  to  eat  so  fast,  that  it  was  not 
eood  to  do  so,  but  to  take  his  time  and  chew  his  food  well ; 
nobody  should  take  the  things  away  from  him. 

The  boy  at  the  word  slackened  speed  at  once  and  ate 
slowly  but  never  stopped  till  the  last  morsel  was  eaten. 
My  father,  now  perfectly  brazen,  kept  his  hand  to  the 
boy's  head  all  the  time.  He  ran  his  fingers  through  his 
hair,  felt  of  his  little  ear,  rubbed  them  against  his  cheek 

34 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

and  chin  and  held  the  back  of  them  to  his  warm,  soft 
throat,  to  feel  the  light,  quick  beating  of  his  blood,  the 
little  fellow  not  minding  it  at  all.  But  whenever  my  father 
stopped  still  he  stopped  still  too  for  a  little  while  as  if 
waiting  and  then  moved  his  face  just  the  least  bit  against 
his  hand,  almost  like  nudging  him  to  go  on,  because  he 
liked  it. 

''Are  you  still  hungry?"  asked  my  father,  when  there 
was  no  more  to  eat. 

"N-no !" 

''Could  you  eat  more  if  you  had  it?" 

"It  will  do!" 

This,  to  be  sure,  made  my  father  feel  very  miserable. 

"I  am  sorry  I  did  not  get  more,"  he  said  most 
penitently.  "But  I  can  go  for  more.  Some  place  will  be 
open."    And  he  moved  to  rise. 

But  the  boy  said,  "No!  It  was  plenty  enough!"  adding 
with  something  queer  of  softness,  "Much  obliged!"  lay- 
ing back  his  head  then. 

"Now  are  you  going  to  sleep  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Won't  you  shake  hands  and  say  good  night?" 

"Good  night !" 

But  it  was  like  a  shock  when  my  father's  hand  had 
come  to  the  little  hand  in  the  dark,  to  feel  the  palm  so 
horny  hard.     He  never  forgot  it. 

The  next  time  my  father  came  to  the  old  wharf,  the 
next  Sunday,  it  made  him  smile  at  himself  in  his  humor- 
ous self-observation,  how  he  felt  as  if  the  boy,  when  he 
saw  him,  must  know  him,  and  quite  snubbed  and  set  back 
when  he  found  himself  a  blank  to  him.  And  from  what 
he  observed,  watching  pretty  closely,  he  was  not  able  to 
conclude  that  the  boy  was  at  all  starved  or  badly  treated, 
or  anything  but  well  and  contented.  Certainly  he  was 
sparing  of  speech  and  otherwise  too,  in  a  way  noiseless 
that  was  not  like  most  boys,  but  this  clearly  came  by  no 

35 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

means  from  dejection,  nor  was  there,  as  far  as  my  father 
could  see,  any  trace  of  ill-humor  about  him,  rather  some- 
thing of  self-restraint  that  might  be  the  result  of  some 
previous  training.  And  though  small,  he  was  yet  appar- 
ently as  strong  as  he  showed  himself  to  be  nimble,  and 
well  able  to  do  his  work.  He  was  quick  to  see  what  was 
wanted,  in  fact  understanding  well  how  to  do  it ;  and  if 
at  times  hard-run,  at  others  he  had  at  least  fifteen  minutes 
duration  to  rest  himself  if  he  wanted  to.  He  must  feel 
little  need  of  it  for  he  would  at  such  times  still  busy  him- 
self in  many  ways  or  among  the  boys  do  some  tumbling 
tricks  after  the  fashion  of  boys  when  a  circus  has  been  in 
town.  At  this  he  seemed  by  general  consent,  to  be  re- 
garded as  being  one  of  the  best.  And  these  things  he 
would  scarcely  have  done  had  he  been  worked  to  utter 
weariness.  For  all  of  which  reasons  the  small  chap,  I  am 
afraid,  proved  rather  a  disappointment  to  my  dear  father 
that  day,  prepared  as  he  had  come  to  pity  him. 

The  brisk  business  of  the  somewhat  raw  day  was  over 
early  and  the  boy  before  dark  in  full  sight  of  him  re- 
ceived an  ample  supper.  My  dear  father  must  have  felt 
disappointed  at  not  being  able  to  please  himself  with  ex- 
pending his  sympathy  on  the  boy  and  I  am  almost  certain 
he  had  already  in  his  pocket  some  food  to  give  him.  He 
was  predisposed  in  favor  of  the  child  and  trying  very  hard 
to  keep  him  in  his  good  graces,  managed  to  find  enough 
pleasure  to  outbalance  all  his  'lisappointment  and  to 
restore  himself  to  most  of  his  own  good  opniion. 

One  thing  was  sure,  if  tlie  boy  was  of  silent  ways  he 
was  very  alert  and  especially  quick,  my  father  thought 
with  all  his  seriousness,  to  notice  anything  that  was 
humorous,  comical,  ridiculous,  things  happening  among  so 
many  people  constantly.  Another  thing  was,  if  he  had 
many  what  must  be  classed  as  soft  spots,  if  he  showed 
that  he  was  conscientious,  if  he  appeared  modest,  thought- 
ful of  others  and  considerate,  at  least  he  was  not  bashful, 

36 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

not  shy  of  people  and  diffident.    And  that,  with  my  father, 
made  up  for  almost  any  shortcomings. 

More  than  once  during  the  afternoon  my  father  had 
tried  to  get  nearer  to  the  boy  to  observe  him  closer, 
even  if  he  did  not  wish  to  speak  to  him  before  so  many 
people.  Now,  toward  evening  after  his  early  supper,  he 
came  to  where  my  father  was  sitting  on  the  stringer  of 
the  sidewharf,  and  there,  watching  the  last  boat  out  with 
a  load  of  boys  fooling  who  were  all  but  capisizing  the  boat 
in  trying  to  pick  up  a  spilled  oar,  he  stood  quite  a  long  time 
so  close  by,  my  father  could  follow  the  moving  of  his  body 
with  his  breathing.  And  my  fatlier  took  notice  that  he 
was  straight-grown  and  clean-looking,  even  though  he  was 
meanly  dressed,  wearing  nothing  but  an  old  gray,  very 
washed-out,  flannel  shirt,  unbuttoned  round  the  throat, 
without  neckerchief.  His  trowsers  were  grayish  blue, 
turned  up  at  the  ankles  and  lashed,  dago-fashion,  round 
the  waist  with  an  old  faded-out,  red,  silk  sash,  the  ends 
hanging  down  on  the  sides.  A  shapeless,  soft,  brown 
hat  was  pushed  back  on  his  head,  and  shoes  worn  through 
showing  the  naked  feet.  His  complexion  was  a  very  clear, 
light  olive  without  any  color  except  the  very  red  lips. 

And  now  my  father  could  see  also  that  his  looks  were 
not  at  all  sullen  as  they  had  appeared  to  him  at  a  dis- 
tance but  only  just  earnest  with  a  shade  of  anxiousness 
that  my  father  could  understand  only  too  well,  showing 
that  the  boy  took  things  to  heart  and  felt  responsibilities. 
And  whether  it  was  this  or  some  other  expression,  some 
resemblance,  the  reflexion  unconsciously  seen  of  his  own 
self  or  whatever  it  was,  still  my  father  was  so  struck 
v/ith  the  boy's  whole  appearance,  bearing,  looks  that  the 
image  of  him  as  he  stood  there,  gazing  steadfastly  at  the 
far-off  boat,  not  minding  nor  regarding  the  man  observing 
him  so  intently  never  afterwards  left  his  mind. 

Presently  that  large,  handsome,  pink  and  white  boy, 
Mahon,  came  along  and  sung  out   in  his   fine,   ringing 

37 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

voice:  "Halloh,  you  little  wharfrat !  who  has  been  bully- 
ing you  now  ?  Just  say  it  now !  I  am  just  spoiling  for  a 
fight  now.  You  little  wharfrat!  Wharfrat!  I  would 
not  be  a  wharfrat.  I  would  rather  be  a  waterrat.  Wharf - 
rats  can't  swim.  You  can't  swim.  You  think  you  can 
but  you  can't.  Can  you?"  And  at  the  first  sound  the 
little  one  had  turned  and  stood  like  one  transfixed,  his 
cheeks  flushing,  his  eyes  sparkling,  smiling  at  the  big 
fellow,  and  as  if  all  trembling  with  gladness  at  seeing 
him,  and  with  afifection,  till  my  father's  heart,  that  had 
been  drawn  to  him  from  the  first,  seeing  now  the  feeling 
he  unawares  shov\ed,  went  out  to  him  en.tirely. 

Coming  after  this  to  the  old  wharf  every  Sunday,  and 
still  finding  no  opportunity  to  get  into  any  intercourse 
or  acquaintance  with  the  boy  my  father  thought  of  trying 
what  a  weekday  would  do.  He  left  his  business  at  noon 
one  day  and  going  to  the  place  in  a  roundabout  way  over 
a  stretch  of  clear  beach  of  the  bay-shore,  and  walking 
along  the  water's  edge  to  get  to  the  foot  of  the  wharfs  he 
suddenly,  around  a  sandy  knoll,  came  face  to  face  with 
the  small  chap,  harnessed  to  his  wagon,  going  to  pick 
up  driftwood  to  take  home  and  saw  up  for  firewood. 

If  the  meeting  had  not  been  so  unexpected  and  sudden, 
perhaps  it  would  have  passed  without  consequence,  but 
my  father  thus  surprised  into  stopping  and  speaking, 
and  without  knowing  why  he  did  so,  addressed  him  in 
Spanish.  Upon  this  the  boy  scrutinized  him  most  serious- 
Iv  and  searchingly,  perhaps  trying  at  the  same  time  to 
recognize  the  voice,  or  detect  something  familiar  in  my 
father's  accosting  that  made  him  think  he  must  know  him. 
But  he  answered  straightforward  enough,  speaking  Span- 
ish quite  as  his  mother-tongue,  but  as  if  he  did  not  know 
the  man  and  that  the  man  would  presently  discover  that 
he  had  been  mistaken  in  him. 

My  father  told  him  that  he  would  help  him  gather 
wood  and  would  draw  his  wagon  for  him,  which  to  the 

38 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAAWEL  ALAKUS 

boy  seemed  a  funny  proposition,  or  meant  to  be  funny, 
for  the  smallest  little  smile  flickered  for  a  moment  round 
his  lips.  But  upon  my  father's  proceeding  to  unharness 
him  he  grew  serious  again  at  once  and  that  grave  look 
came  back  into  his  face.  Gazing  earnestly  into  my  father's 
eyes  as  if  to  find  out  what  the  man  wanted  to  do, 
the  man  was  at  great  pains  to  explain  that  he  meant  no 
harm  but  just  what  he  said.  He  told  him  that  he  had  some 
lunch  too,  in  his  pockets,  some  sandwiches  and  oranges 
which  he  should  have  to  eat  as  soon  as  they  came  to  a 
good  place  to  sit  down  beyond  the  point  ahead.  The  men- 
tioning of  the  lunch  did  not  altogether  have  the  expected 
effect,  the  boy  continuing  grave  for  some  time  longer, 
simply  answering  the  questions  my  father  asked  and 
eying  him,  not  as  if  afraid  or  suspicious  but  very  open- 
ly, frankly  trying  to  understand  what  was  meant  by  this 
unusual  treatment. 

My  father  kept  on  drawing  the  wagon  and  picked  up 
every  stick  of  wood  they  came  to  and  took  those  the  boy 
picked  up  and  stowed  them  all  snugly,  which  businesslike 
proceeding  reassured  the  boy  somewhat.  And  when  they 
came  behind  the  point  where  nobody  could  see  them. 
my  father  bade  the  boy  sit  down  in  the  warm,  dry  sand 
and  he  sat  down  beside  him  and  gave  him  the  promised 
oranges  and  sandwiches.  And  then,  to  be  sure,  the  little 
fellow  was  ready  enough  to  eat.  And  my  father  noticed 
with  a  peculiar  kind  of  pleased  feeling  that  he  ate  as 
slowly  as  that  night  in  the  shed  after  he  had  told  him  not 
to  eat  too  fast. 

While  he  ate  my  father  started  to  talk,  knowing,  it 
would  seem,  just  what  the  boy  liked  to  hear:  all  about 
animals,  seagulls,  porpoises  and  so  forth.  Then  he  told 
a  funny  story  about  a  dog  wanting  to  catch  a  crab  and 
using  his  tail  for  a  line,  which  brought  a  broad  smile 
into  the  sober  little  face,  seeing  which,  my  father,  to 
follow  up  his  success,  worked  hard  with  another  funny 

39 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

story  and  did  not  rest  till  he  had  brought  out  another, 
broader  smile  and  finally  yet  another  so  bright  he  could 
not  wish  for  any  brighter,  making  the  child  look  very 
different.  He  began  to  show  such  simple  lighthearted- 
ness  that  my  father  hated  to  do  anything  to  make  him 
serious  again  but  still  he  could  not  help  asking  him  some 
questions  about  himself. 

His  name  was  ]\Ianuel,  a  thing  my  father  kne\v  already. 
He  had  no  other  name.  He  was  born  in  Mexico,  the  boy 
told  him,  but  he  was  not  a  Mexican.  He  was  a  German. 
His  father  was  Jim.  Jim  was  also  from  Mexico.  He 
did  not  know  where  Jim  was  now.  Yes !  he  liked  Mahon. 
Mahon  was  very  strong.  Mahon  lived  with  his  father, 
his  real  father.  He  was  a  brewery-man.  That  there  was 
the  chimney  of  his  brewery.  His  name  was  Mr.  Tern 
Oldock.  He  liked  him  too.  He  had  given  him  wood. 
Not  now,  but  when  he  was  with  Jim,  a  long,  long  time 
ago.  Now  he  had  no  wood  to  give ;  he  was  a  brewery- 
man  now.  He  did  not  know  how  old  he  was.  And  his 
mother  was  dead ;  his  real  mother. 

In  speaking  Spanish  the  boy  would  once  in  a  while  use 
an  Italian  word.  On  my  father's  giving  the  right  Spanish 
word,  he  would  after  that  employ  it  and  not  forget  it 
again,  which  gave  my  father  that  same  complacent  feeling 
as  before  when  he  noticed  his  eating  slowly.  He  was 
sorry  though  to  find  that  the  boy  did  not  know  Italian, 
only  those  few  words.  He  understood  it  pretty  well 
when  my  father  spoke  it.  But  he  would  not  even  attempt 
to  speak  it :  and  Spanish  seemed  by  far  the  language  he 
knew  best,  his  English  being  quite  faulty.  It  thus  ap- 
peared that  he  had  at  present  to  speak  more  English  than 
Spanish. 

All  this  dry  business-talk  over,  my  father  began  some 
little  tricks  to  make  life  a  merrier  affair  again.  He 
twisted  his  hands  and  fingers  together  to  produce  all 
sorts  of  shadow  pictures  in  the  white  sunshine  on  the 

40 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

sand,  heads  of  animals  that  moved  and  that  the  boy 
quickly  recognized.  He  whistled  and  laughed  at  the 
same  time.  That  was  real  fun.  The  boy  could  not  do  it 
at  all.  The  more  he  tried  the  more  it  made  him  laugh. 
How  the  man  loved  to  hear  the  boy  laugh. 

And  at  the  wind-up,  it  turned  out  that  deep  down  at 
the  bottom  of  one  of  the  pockets  of  the  man's  coat  there 
was  a  harmonica  that  was  to  the  boy's.     Indeed,   I  am 
pretty  sure,  this  was  not  the  first  present  for  the  boy 
that  his  pocket  had  held,  if  it  was  the  first  one  given.     I 
doubt  not  but  that  every  Sunday  after  the  first  one  some 
little  present  was   brought  to   be   carried   back  ungiven. 
But  the  Sunday  before,  m.y  father  had  noticed  the  boy 
listening  very  longingly,  he  thouglit,  to  one  of  the  bigger 
boys  hanging  around  the  boatsteps  playing  such  an  in- 
strument.    And,  now,  here  was  one  larger,  finer,  better 
every  way.     But  the  little  fellow  seemed  almost  incapable 
of  realizing  that  it  was  to  be  his.    Perhaps  he  had  received 
fev/   presents   before   this   time,   and   never   before   such 
a  fine  one,  and  he  did  not  altogether  know  how  to  take 
it.     He  blew  in  it,  very  softly,  just  once  and  put  it  inside 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt  as  if  to  hide  it.  but  soon  he  took 
it  out  again,  seemingly  to  hand  it  back,  blushing  as  if  he 
had  done  something  mean.     He  stood  with  it  in  his  hand, 
watching  my  father's  every   feature  to  catch  each  little 
sign  of  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  the  thing,  not  trust- 
ing his  ears  apparently  as  my  dear  father  made  one  procla- 
mation after  the  other  that  this  instrument  was  to  be  his. 
truly  his,  absolutely  his,  till  at  last  persuaded  to  try  and 
play.    When  once  playing,  he  forgot  everything,  the  giver 
of  the  gift,  the  gift  in  the  enjoyment,  first  breathing  into 
the  instrument  all  round  and  then  starting  ofif  plaving,  he 
held  it  as  that  boy  did  the  last  Sunday,  between  his  half- 
closed  hands,  and  played  a  tune  that  boy  had  played,  but 
infinitely,  my  father  thought  prettier :  after  that  he  played 
other  tunes!   street-songs  of  the  day,   pieces  my   father 

41 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

whistled  or  hummed,  anything  so  readily  my  father  felt 
sure  he  must  often  have  played  such  an  instrument  before. 
But  the  boy  shook  his  head  without  stopping  his  tune. 
All  the  way  back  he  made  music.  And  when  they  parted 
at  the  foot  of  the  wharf,  my  father  stood  and  listened 
to  the  strains  growing  fainter  as  the  child  went  toiling 
on  his  way  with  his  wagon  out  the  long  wharf. 

Two,  three  times  a  week  the  boy  had  to  go  to  pick 
up  wood  on  the  beach  of  the  bay.  Other  days  were  un- 
certain, but  Friday  was  the  day  he  always  went.  And 
the  next  Friday  when  my  father  came  to  the  place  there 
was  the  small  chap  with  a  big  smile  and  the  harmonica. 
And  they  did  their  work  together  quickly,  and  the  boy  got 
his  lunch  and  they  had  some  more  tricks  and  little 
games  and  stories  and  talk  and  music,  the  boy  playing 
without  roughness  or  noisiness  but  with  a  gentleness 
which  was  entirely  to  my  father's  taste. 

And  the  Friday  after,  the  little  fellow  had  evidently 
been  expecting  him,  for  being  first  on  the  ground,  as 
soon  as  my  father  hove  in  sight,  he  started  as  if  to  run 
to  him.  But  he  checked  himself,  dropped  to  sitting  on  his 
feet  on  his  bent  knees,  stuck  his  hands  well  into  the  sand, 
to  keep  them  down.  His  face  was  as  glowing  as  any 
that  ever  greeted  Mahon,  as  he  lifted  it  up  to  my  father 
to  be  taken  between  his  hands. 

One  day  my  father  bought  him  a  pair  of  boots.  He 
had  artfully  drawn  out  of  him  his  secret  longing  to 
have  a  pair  of  boots.  So  he  took  him  to  the  nearest 
shoe  store,  and  there  they  found  the  very  boots  he  had 
wished  for  ;  tall,  up  to  the  knees  almost,  plain,  without  any 
fancy  stitching,  copper-toed  and  low-heeled  with  heel- 
plates. They  fitted  to  perfection.  It  was  wonderful ; 
everything  just  as  if  they  had  been  specially  ordered.  And 
when  he  had  them  on  and  my  father  had  turned  up  the 
trousers,  double  treble  to  near  the  top,  was  it  not  fine?  He 
walked  by  my  father's  side  looking  down  at  the  boots 

42 


CHROXJCLBS  OF  MAXUEL  ALAKUS 

and  then  smiling  np  in  the  man's  face,  and  down  again 
at  the  boots  and  up  again  smiling  in  my  father's  eyes, 
crowding  closer  to  him  little  by  little  till  he  could 
touch  his  cheek  to  the  man's  sleeve. 

There  came  a  day  when  m)'  father  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Mahon.  They  liked  each  other  very  much.  That 
day  he  had  given  the  little  one  a  knife,  a  very  splendid 
knife  with  I  don't  know  how  many  blades,  and  he 
now  told  him  to  give  that  knife  to  Mahon,  and  he, 
my  father,  would  give  him  another  knife  just  like  this 
one  the  next  time  they  met.  The  boy  did  as  he  was 
told,  but  I  suspect  not  without  a  pang.  For  the  knife 
certainly  was  a  beauty,  and  the  chances  of  there  being 
two  such  knives  in  this  world  must  surely  have  seemed 
to  the  boy  to  be  small.  He  grew  quite  red  handing  it  to 
]\Iahon.  who  hesitated  a  moment  before  taking  it,  under- 
standing, I  am  convinced,  the  whole  case  and  knowing 
better  than  my  father  what  a  self-denial  he  was  demanding 
of  the  child.  But  the  knife  was  too  splendid.  Mahon 
could  not  resist  taking  it. 

When  my  father  did  come  the  next  time,  the  next 
day  on  a  special  trip,  and  he  held  out  his  closed  hand 
with  the  knife  in  it,  the  boy  blushed  so  hard  and  looked 
so  guilty,  my  father  had  to  smile  at  him  and  said: 
"You  thought  I  should  not  keep  my  word,  did  you 
not?"  The  boy  gave  a  self-confessing  nod,  and  there 
was  about  him  so  much  part  forbearance-asking  and 
part  relief  wnth  such  a  glow  of  childish,  glad  expec- 
tancy, affection,  happiness  and  some  archness,  as  if  he 
had  well  known  all  along  that  he  could  trustfully  leave 
everything  to  the  man,  his  friend,  and  it  would  all  come 
out  all  right,  it  so  moved  my  father,  he  could  hardly 
speak.  He  began  accusing  himself  of  wrong-doing  in 
first  giving  a  thing  and  then  taking  it  away.  He  excused 
himself  to  the  boy  by  stating  he  had  not  known  if  he 

43 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

should  see  Malion  again  soon,  and  all  but  begging  the 
boy's   forgiveness  as  he  handed  him  the  knife. 

Once  my  father  did  not  come  for  two  Fridays.  Some- 
thing prevented  him.  Nor  did  he  come  the  Sunday  be- 
tween. But  when  he  did  come  the  third  Friday,  the  boy 
was  as  if  beside  himself.  He  must  have  thought  he 
had  lost  his  friend  and  would  never  see  him  any  more. 
The  outbreak  of  his  joy  was  so  great  it  overcame  all  his 
self-restraint.  They  met  beyond  the  sandy  point.  The 
boy  was  standing  with  his  wagon,  looking  towards  the 
hill  where  in  the  distance  a  man  was  walking  across  some 
empty  building  lots.  Surely  he  was  thinking  of  his  friend 
when  he  heard  the  light  crunching  of  some  one  coming, 
stepping  through  the  sand.  And  when  he  turned,  there 
stood  my  father  holding  out  to  him  his  hands,  speechless 
with  happiness  to  see  the  boy  again.  How  the  boy  tore 
off  his  harness  and  made  a  rush,  throwing  himself  down 
at  the  man's  feet,  clasping  his  legs,  pressmg  his  face  to 
his  knees,  hugging  and  rocking,  almost  upsetting  the  man 
and  overcoming  him  as  much  as  he  \\'as  overcome  him- 
self. 

On  rare,  clear,  moonlight  nights,  my  father  would 
go  out  to  the  end  of  the  wharf  and  finding  the  little 
chap  awake  and  about,  as  was  usually  the  case,  and  hav- 
ing him  there  alone  all  to  himself  in  the  stillness  and 
magic  half-light  of  the  night,  he  would  give  way  to  all 
the  tenderness  pent  up  in  his  heart,  and  the  child  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  came  to  learn  what  it  was  to 
be  treated  fondly,  the  sweetness  of  which  to  him  was 
such  that  the  longing  for  it  never  left  his  breast  after. 

Of  all  this,  what  I  remem.ber,  it  is  natural,  is  inter- 
woven with  what  my  father  told  me  so  as  to  make  each 
undistinguishable  from  the  other.  Yet  my  remembrance 
of  many  points  is  quite  distinct.  At  Five  Oaks  in  the 
weeks  and  months  of  homesickness,  the  old  wharf 
with  its  surroundings  was  ever  in  my  mind,  and  there 

44 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

were  not  many  nights  when  before  falHng  asleep  I  would 
not  abandon  myself  to  the  sweet  anguish  of  calling  up  the 
lost  past  that  came  crowding  in  upon  me.  Before  every 
thought  was  that  of  that  man,  my  friend,  whose  loving 
eyes  were  looking  at  me  from  every  point,  whose  voice 
was  in  my  ears  resaying  all  his  kind  words,  thus  fixing 
in  my  memory  what  otherwise  must  have  been  forgotten 
by  one  so  very  young. 

I  remember  all  about  the  knife  and  most  distinctly 
our  first  meeting  on  the  sandy  stretch  of  the  bay-shore. 
I  knew  that  I  knew  him,  if  I  could  only  put  him  rightly 
in  my  mind.  He  was  to  me  what  nobody  ever  had  been 
before,  and  yet  it  seemed  that  he  was  what  I  had  always 
longed  for  somebody  to  be.  I  remember  his  giving  me 
the  beautiful,  silver-mounted  harmonica.  Never  could 
I  forget  that.  I  had  not  known  before  how  much  I 
craved  an  instrument  like  that  to  make  music.  And  the 
pleasure  it  gave  me  was  everlasting. 

Of  our  first  meeting  on  the  w^harf  at  night  and  in 
the  shed,  I  have  no  recollection,  but  of  the  last  moon- 
light night  so  little  is  forgotten  that  every  similar  night 
brings  it  all  back  to  me.  I  see  the  level  top  and  the  black, 
square  shadows  of  some  bales  of  hay  that  had  been  left 
discharged  on  the  wharf.  I  feel  my  father's  hands  as  he 
lifted  me  up  to  lie  on  the  hay  and  drew  my  head  back, 
down  on  his  shoulder.  And  I  see  full  in  our  faces  the 
round  moon,  low  yet  over  the  Contra  Costa  hills  and  her 
long,  broad  lightway  on  tlie  slowly  moving  water,  and 
the  red  light  of  the  Oakland  mole  a  little  above.  In  be- 
tween were  thin  layers  of  haze  and  smoke  in  long,  level 
streaks  here  and  there.  I  yet  seem  to  feel  the  very  air, 
without  movement  but  with  now  and  then  a  little  cool, 
and  to  hear  in  the  quietude  the  distant,  muffled  bark- 
ing of  a  dog  ashore,  and  the  dull,  far-of¥  rumble  of  the 
ferry-boats.  I  know  I  longed  to  have  my  arms  round 
my  father  as  his  were  round  me  w^hen  he  took  my 

45 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

hands  and  put  them  to  his  face  and  drew  me  to  his 
breast.  And  I  feel  again  the  gentle  straining  of  his 
embrace,  the  caressing  of  his  hand,  the  tender,  linger- 
ing touch  of  lips,  as  he  kissed  me,  the  kiss  I  knew 
him  by  again  after  years  of  separation. 

Motherless  children,  I  know,  are  said  to  regard  their 
father,  if  he  be  any  way  qualified  with  something  the  same 
kind  of  feeling  that  children  under  normal  conditions 
have  for  their  mother.  It  seems  but  natural.  Yet  who 
can  tell?  But  what  of  children  that,  like  me,  never  knew 
a  mother? 

I  can  recall  how  I  felt,  as  a  son,  towards  my  father,  not 
yet  knowing  him  to  be  such.  And  what  he  was  to  me 
from  the  first  day,  I  have  no  word  to  give  but  the  one 
to  me  sweetest  and  dearest  of  all  words :  Father  First 
of  all  he  was  my  friend  to  whom  I  could  always  turn, 
and  even  when  I  was  wrong  he  would  still  be  my  friend, 
v>'ho  would  do  all  for  the  best  and  never  fail  me.  I  even 
had  a  feeling  as  if  he  were  constantly  near  by.  And 
when  Richard  Alanus  had  me  by  the  throat,  I  know  I 
felt  if  I  could  only  cry  out,  my  father  would  hear  and 
come,  and  I  should  be  saved.  With  this  there  was  the 
ever  returning  pleasure  of  his  company,  tfie  sweetness  of 
his  temper  with  not  a  grain  of  moroseness  nor  ill-humor, 
the  charm  of  his  gentle,  playful  manner,  his  delightful 
spirits  with  few  signs  of  the  sorrow  hidden  below ;  and 
in  me  the  grateful  feeling  for  his  ever  thoughtful  kind- 
ness of  heart. 

But  beyond  all  this  I  felt  towards  him  as  some  one  I 
belonged  to ;  yet  more  as  some  one  that  belonged  to  me, 
and  by  natural  right.  When  he  spoke  to  m.e  the  first 
word  in  Spanish  there  rose  in  me  that,  I  remember,  which 
seemed  as  if  it  were  something  I  had  known  since  I  could 
think,  and  had  been  expecting  all  along.  As  he  seemed 
always  to  be  anticipating  my  wishes  and  desires,  so  I 
seemed  always  to  know  beforehand  when  he  would  come, 

46 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

what  he  would  do,  how  he  would  look,  what  he  would  say, 
understanding  all  he  thought  and  felt,  almost  as  if  I 
were  able  to  make  him  do  whatever  I  wanted  by  just 
thinking  it.  He  was  mine,  and  I  loved  him  because  he 
was  mine.  On  the  other  hand  I  liked  to  be  told  by  him 
what  to  do.  and  to  do  it.  Certainly  I  had  to  obey.  Some- 
thing in  me  made  me  do  it,  I  being  not  untractable  at 
my  worst,  for  him  I  loved  especially  to  do  what  he  told 
me  to  do,  as  I  knew  that  he  loved  me. 

What  I  did  not  understand  in  him  at  all  was  his 
shyness.  I  felt  our  friendship  was  to  be  a  secret 
between  us.  That  was  all  right.  That,  perhaps,  only 
made  it  truer  and  sweeter.  Further,  I  could  not  com- 
prehend his  bashful  ways,  why  he  should  always  seem- 
ingly be  averse  to  being  seen,  observed,  afraid  of  being 
in  people's  way. 

But  his  melancholy  I  understood,  as  I  am  not  with- 
out a  touch  of  this  Gothic  spectre  myself.  And  I  felt 
it  most  in  him  when  he  w^as  showing  me  most  how 
dear  I  was  to  him.  awakening  in  me  a  vague  compas- 
sion, as  if  I  somehow  must  take  care  of  him  and  be  as 
gentle  and  loving  to  him  as  he  was  to  me.  I  watched 
him  with  silent  concern,  till  he  would  notice  it  and  in 
his  playful  manner  with  kindly  joking  drive  all  that 

away. 

How  different  was  all  this  with  Mahon !  Mahon 
was  to  me  a  hero.  I  had  no  claim  on  him.  He  w^as  a 
biq-  boy,  far  above  me.  who  condescended  to  notice 
me  and'  goodnaturedly  tease  me.  He  repaid  my  devoted 
oltachment  with  taking  my  part  against  some  of  the  ugly, 
big  fellows  around  our  wliarf,  lighting  them  and  making 
me  fight  too;  teaching  me  to  box.  Of  Mahon  I  could 
think  out  stories,  how  he  would  come  when  I  was  being 
abused  by  some  big  bully  of  a  boy,  throw  off  his  coat  and 
pitch  into  my  persecutor,  and  I  returned  the  obligation 
by   saving  him   from  drowning.     This  last   I  have  been 

47 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

told,  but  it  has  altogether  gone  out  of  my  memory.     Of 
my  father  I  could  not  think  out  stories  like  that. 

As  near  as  I  can  determine,  my  father's  first  visit 
to  our  wharf  and  his  first  seeing  me  must  have  oc- 
curred six,  seven  months  before  my  abduction  by 
Richard  Alanus.  Much  as  my  father  from  the  very  first 
had  been  inclined  to  take  me  away  from  the  place,  to 
make  my  life  his  care,  he  had  found  it  no  easy  matter 
to  come  to  a  conclusion  about  the  plan  to  follow.  Had  he 
seen  me  in  any  way  ill-treated  or  in  the  least  unhappy 
he  would  have  bought  the  consent  of  my  masters,  or 
without  it,  have  taken  me  from  them  and  found  a  suit- 
able place  for  me  afterwards.  But  as  it  was,  any  one 
having  my  welfare  truly  at  heart  might  well  have  hesi- 
tated. My  future  alone  was  the  moving  consideration. 
For  as  far  as  the  present  was  concerned,  what  could  he 
give  for  what  he  must  take  away?  Could  he  have  taken 
me  to  his  own  house,  it  would  have  been  different.  But 
to  bring  me  to  his  home,  such  as  it  was,  would  be  prepar- 
ing but  a  sorry  lot  for  me.  Now  that  his  desire  to  have 
nie  for  his  own  had  with  his  feeling  for  me  grown  so 
strong  he  must  give  way  to  it  and  my  attachment  to  him 
discovered  more  and  more  at  our  every  meeting,  made  his 
wish  to  him  a  duty,  it  was  still  necessary  to  act  with  care 
and  consideration.  Even  if  he  had  known  that  Richard 
had  become  apprized  of  the  increasing  frequency  of 
his  strolls  to  the  old  wharf,  and  was  having  him  watched, 
he  could  not  have  presumed  that  that  meant  the  loss  of 
and  mortal  danger  to  me.  He  wanted  to  find  me  a  home. 
To  put  me  in  some  boarding-school,  or  some  instiution, 
tliat  was  not  his  idea  of  showing  his  affection  and  return- 
ing mine.  He  knew  but  too  well  how  under  the  best  con- 
ditions in  any  change  I  would  miss  the  freedom  of  my 
present  life.  He  was  looking  for  a  home  for  me,  such 
as  he  himself  would  have  liked  to  have,  to  take  me  to, 
and  he  had  succeeded  in  finding  a  family  willing  to  take 

48 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALAXUS 

charge  of  me,  where  there  were  two  sons,  one  a  little 
older  and  the  other  a  little  younger  than  I.  The  family 
of  a  physician,  a  Dr.  Sullivan  living  near  Gilroy,  not  far 
from  my  father's  country-pFace,  seemed  to  answer  all  re- 
quirements. He  had  just  returned  from  the  trip  to  Dr. 
Sullivan's  to  close  the  negotiations  when  there  come  to 
him,  suddenly,  proof  unimpeachable  of  his  son's  existence, 
his  identity  and  abode :  a  living  witness,  Jim,  the  brick- 
layer. 

Some  time  not  very  long  before  this,  Thoiuson  had 
returned  to  town  for  a  short  stay  and  had  traced  me 
to  Adelita's  sister,  the  Dark  Woman,  who  Avas  Jim's  wife. 
She,  however,  had  since  died.  And  although  Thomson 
had  come  to  find  some  of  this  woman's  children  and  to 
make  some  inquiries  of  them  about  me,  he  had  not  had 
time  to  do  more  and  had  gone  back  to  his  minin.g  claim 
leaving  the  clew  obtained,  as  far  as  it  went,  in  the  good 
hands  of  the  suppositious  father,  Richard  Alanus. 

Jim,  having  kept  up  off  and  on.  a  sort  of  intercourse 
with  his  late  Avife's  children,  had  heard  of  inquiries 
being-  made,  and  being  more  familiar  with  the  de- 
ceased woman's  aftairs  than  her  children  were,  had 
quickly  enough  traced  me  to  Antonio,  the  Italian 
gardener,  and  through  him  to  my  present  living-place 
on  the  old  wharf,  where  he  had  gone  the  very  day 
after  my  father's  last  visit,  on  the  last  full-moon  night. 
He  had  seen  me,  recognized  me,  been  recognized  by 
me,  had  conversed  with  me  and  knew,  could  swear 
that  I  was  the  child  that  his  wife  at  that  time,  had 
brought  home  from  the  deathbed  of  her  sister  Adelita, 
and  the  same  child  which  had  lived  with  them  two 
years  or  more :  a  male  child,  very  small,  very  quiet 
with  five,  little,  brown  birthmark-spots  in  a  peculiar 
cluster  on  the  right  hip,  and  with  an  astonishing  ap- 
petite and  the  reputation  of  being  the  love-child  of  a 

49 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Mexican-Indian  girl  and  a  German  banker  and  mining 
man. 

After  locating  the  child,  Jim  had  turned  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  father  whose  name  had  been  transmitted 
to  him  by  the  children  with  enough  corrections  for  him 
to  pick  out  my  father  as  one  of  several  who  might 
possibly  be  he. 

And  to  my  father  he  came  and  told  his  story. 

It  was  not  the  first  story  my  father  had  heard,  will- 
ing to  listen,  fearful  to  give  way  to  hope,  till  he 
learned  which  boy  it  was  that  was  to  be  his  son.  With 
the  instant  recognition  of  the  truth  all  wonderment,  all 
speculation,  all  thought,  everything  was  lost  in  the  flood 
of  joy  that  broke  in  upon  him. 

That  boy  his  boy,  his  son,  his  child!  Unbearable 
happiness ! 

And  when  they  came  to  the  old  wharf,  he  was  told 
that  his  boy  was  lost. 

It  seemed  so  impossible,  it  sounded  like  a  stupid 
joke,  a  trick. 

But  I  was  surely  missing.  This  was  the  third  day 
now  that  nothing  had  been  seen  or  heard  of  me.  I 
must  have  fallen  overboard  and  been  drowned. 

Latterly  my  father  had  come  oftener  to  our  wharf, 
sometimes  evening  after  evening,  at  the  close  of  business 
1  ours.  Both  Nick  and  Nello  had  seen  him,  maybe 
every  time  and  had  noticed,  as  they  could  not  very  well 
help  doing,  that  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  as  they  called 
it.  And  they  now  told  him  that  they  had  suspected  him 
of  being  at  the  bottom  of  my  disappearance.  But 
since  he  knew  nothing  about  it  what  explanation  could 
be  given,  other  than  that  I  had  fallen  overboard  and  been 
carried  away  by  the  tide  and  drowned. 

Nello  said  that  I  always  had  been  up  to  foolish 
tricks,  walking  on  my  hands,  turning  summersaults, 
throwing  hand-springs.     And   lately   I   had   taken   to 

50 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

prowling  round  nights  too.  He  had  heard  me.  And 
he  added  in  his  peevish  way  that  it  was  just  their 
hick,  no  sooner  had  they  gotten  me  so  far  trained  as 
to  be  of  some  little  use  to  them  than  I  must  go  and 
drown  myself-  Nick,  always  more  fair  and  candid, 
said  I  had  always  been  of  great  use  to  them ;  and  if 
I  had  got  up  nights  it  was  probably  because  I  felt 
cold.  It  was  cold  in  the  open  shed.  He  had  even  been 
thinking  about  getting  me  a  blanket.  ]\Iaybe.  I  got  up 
to  exercise,  to  warm  myself  and  walked  overboard  in 
the  fog.  It  was  foggy,  fearfully  fogg}',  day  and  night, 
ever  since  the  night  of  tlie  full  of  the  moon  :  especially 
the  first  night  had  been  bad,  and  though  I  could  swim 
very  well,  the  water  would  soon  have  chilled  me.  And 
in  the  dark  and  the  fog,  I  should  not  have  been  able  to 
lell  where  I  was.  At  times  the  current  was  very  swift 
right  there,  so  that  they  had  about  concluded  to  give  up 
the  boat-letting  altogether,  as  it  was  really  dangerous  to 
go  boating  at  this  point.  But  the  worst  of  all  for  me  was, 
lie  said,  that  I  never  would  cry  out,  or  make  a  noise,  or 
call  for  help.     I  never  did. 

Neither  one  of  them  had  any  clear  recollection  when 
he  had  last  seen  me.  They  had  had  supper  quite  early. 
I  had  not  been  there  then.  They  had  left  my  supper 
for  me  on  the  bench  outside  and  had  closed  up  and 
turned  in  because  it  had  been  so  chilly  and  damp.  In 
the  morning  my  supper  had  been  eaten,  but  may  be 
by  the  rats. 

Nello  had  noticed  Jim  talking  to  me  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  I  was  last  seen,  the  day  after  the  full- 
moon  night,  and  he  now  seemed  disposed  to  look  on 
Jim  with  some  suspicion,  till  Jim  repeated  his  whole 
conversation  with  me,  telling,  pointing  out  where  he 
first  saw  me  the  afternoon  three  days  gone,  where  he 
spoke  to  me,  where  he  stood  and  where  I  stood,  what  he 
said  and  what  I  said,  assuring  my   father  with  tears  in 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

his  eyes  that  he  had  come  to  him  just  as  soon  as  he  possi- 
bly could. 

In  the  torture  of  his  despair  my  father  came  to  Mr. 
Oldock's  place  to  see  Mahon,  the  only  one  he  could 
think  of  to  go  to,  his  lost  boy's  many  times  champion, 
defender  and  heart's  idol.  And  Mahon  when  he  saw 
my  father's  face  knew  him  at  once  and  exclaimed  against 
the  probability  of  my  having  gone  overboard  and  been 
drowned,  taking  my  part  as  it  were,  as  any  manly 
boy  would  of  another  boy,  saying  I  always  knew  what 
I  was  doing  and  where  I  was  going,  and  that  I  should 
not  be  throwing  hand-springs  in  the  dead  of  the  night 
anyhow ;  but  that  if  I  did  go  overboard  I  could  swim 
like  a  fish  and  should  know  by  the  trend  of  the  tide 
which  v.-ay  to  strike  out,  having  learned  all  that  from 
the  Indians  I  had  been  amongst  in  Mexico,  where  I 
came  from. 

But  what  had  become  of  me? 

Mr.  Tem  Oldock  thought  I  had  run  away,  he  said. 
And  in  his  way  he  launched  into  telling  my  father  all 
he  knew  of  me,  recounting  most  circumstantially  how 
he  had  known  me  long  ago,  before  he  had  started  his 
brewery,  when  he  had  been  a  contractor  and  builder, 
and  I  had  come  with  other  children  round  his  build- 
ings to  pick  up  chips  and  cuttings  of  wood ;  how  he 
somehow  had  noticed  me  and  taken  a  liking  to  me, 
perhaps  because  I  had  been  so  small  and  so  quiet, 
hardly  as  big  as  my  wood-sack,  and  silent  as  if  dumb ; 
but  always  strangely  moved  by  any  kindness.  He  re- 
counted how  he  had  sometimes  taken  me  and  my  sack  on 
his  wagon  as  far  as  the  street-corner  of  the  alley  I  lived 
in,  and  had  once  taken  me  to  his  own  house  to  show  me  to 
his  wife,  Mahon's  mother,  who  had  liked  me  as  much  as 
be  had  and  had  made  liim  bring  me  again.  And  if  she 
had  not  died,  they  might  have  taken  me  to  live  with  them. 
He  had  not  seen  me  any  more  till  a  year  or  so  ago,  may- 

52 


CIIROXICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

be  two  years,  when  happening  one  day  to  go  out  to  the 
end  of  the  old  wharf,  where  I  had  been  working  for  the 
two  Spanish  boatmen,  I  had  been  awfully  gla  dto  see 
him.  It  was  funny  to  think  that  I  could  remember 
him  and  be  so  glad  to  see  him.  But  he  had  not  seen 
much  of  me  as  I  had  not  come  round  the  brewery 
often,  maybe  being  timid. 

Hearing  all  this  only  increased  my  father's  agony, 
bringing  me  nearer  and  putting  me  farther  away.  Mr. 
Tem  Oldock  told  all  this  after  his  fashion,  going  over 
the  points  he  liked  two,  three  times,  not  sensible  at 
all  to  the  strangeness  that  my  father  with  whom  he 
was  slightly  acquainted  and  whose  position  in  life  he 
knew,  should  show  such  feeling  for  a  missing  street- 
child.  For  such  things  he  never  had  the  least  thought 
or  suspicion,  always  taking  it  for  granted  that  people  he 
knew  must  know  each  other  as  well  an.d  must  take  the 
same  interest  in  and  view  of  things  that  he  did.  But  the 
urgency  of  the  case  he  well  saw,  even  if  he  did  not  un- 
derstand the  case,  nor  understand  there  be  a  reason  at 
all,  and  as  soon  as  the  details  of  his  narration  would  al- 
low, he  went  to  the  point,  denied  louder  than  }dahon 
the  possibility  that  I,  T  that  had  saved  Mahon,  his  son 
]\[ahon,  Mark  Tem  Oldock  out  of  the  water,  should  be 
drowned.  "It  could  not  be.  It  was  an  absurdity  to  think 
i*.  He  had  told  ]\Iahon  so  the  moment  he  had  brought 
him  the  news,  two  days  ago.  that  Manuel,  the  little  half- 
breed  Mexican  on  the  old  wharf  was  missing  and  supposed 
to  be  drowned.  It  was  nonsense.  That  was  all  right. 
I  had  become  disgusted  with  the  way  my  two  masters 
had  treated  me  and  had  left  the  place;  that  was  all. 
He  had  told  Mahon  before  this,  those  two  fellows 
ought  to  be  run  out  of  town  the  way  they  worked  me. 
Two  overgrown  loafers  to  let  themselves  be  supported 
by  a  child !  Even  their  washing  they  had  made  me  do. 
That  day  when  he  had  seen  me,  I  had  been  down  on 

53 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

my  marrow  bones  scrubbing  their  dirty  overalls.  I 
had  tired  of  the  work  and  had  left.  That  was  all. 
Or  I  had  gone  off  with  some  other  boys.  But  I  would 
soon  come  back.  He  knew  how  that  was.  That  was 
all  right."  And  he  would  have  gone  on  in  this  way 
i{  Mahon  had  not  interfered.  Mahon  felt  a  right  and 
spoke  to  undo  most  of  his  father's  saying. 

Mahon  said,  "he  was  sure  I  had  not  run  away.    And 
my  men  never  overworked  or  illtreated  me.     And  I 
was  not  afraid  of  them.     I  was  not  afraid  of  anybody 
or  anything.     Some  of  the  big  fellows  would  some- 
times try  to  bully  me  about  the  boats,  and  try  to  get  me  to 
let  them  have  my  best  pair  of  sculls  without  extra 
charge,   and   of   course    I   could    not   fight   those   big 
fellows.     But  I  could  fight  all  right,  and  would  fight 
too,  if  I  had  to,  though  I  was  only  a  kid.    And  I  had 
nothing  to  do  with  other  boys  at  all,  but  just  him.     I 
just  minded  my  own  business.     I  had  no  time  to  loaf. 
That  was  the  reason  I  never  came  hanging  round  the 
brewery  and  not  because  I   was  afraid.     I  was  not 
afraid.     And  I  was  very  strong  and  anybody's  match 
of  my  size,  if  I  did  not  just  like  fighting  for  hurting 
anybody.    Perhaps  I  had  not  always  gotten  enough  to 
eat.    That  he  was  not  sure  of.    I  never  asked  for  any- 
thing; but  the  boys  said  sometimes  I  had  to  go  hungry. 
He  thought  that  generally  I  got  plenty  to  eat,  only 
sometimes  I  had  to  go  without.     But  I  could  stand  that 
for  quite  a  little  spell.     I  bad  learned  that  too  from  the 
Indians  in  Mexico  where  I  came  from.     Some  boys  called 
me  an  Indian.     Anybody  could  see  I  was  no  Indian.     He 
had  not  even  believed  that  I  had  lived  among  Indians,  till 
he  had  asked  me  and  I  had  told  him  I  had.     But  I 
would  not  run  away  for  being  hungry  once,  or  I  should 
have  run  away  long  ago." 

And  facing  the  question,  "what  then  had  become  of 
me?"  he  gave  it   in  boyish  hightening  of  a   sensational 

S4- 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

event,  as  his  opinion   "that   I  had  been   stolen,"   hitting 
the  truth. 

At  the  time  he  was  speaking  I  was  being  driven  by 
Richard  Alanus  with  his  team  on  the  road  from  the  steam- 
boat-landing, away  down  in  the  big  valley  to  the  foothills 
of  the  mountains.  1  had  passed  the  night  on  a  steamboat 
plying  from  the  city  up  the  bay  and  river.  I  was  disguised 
as  a  Chinese  boy  and  was  in  the  company  of  a  crowd  of 
Chinamen,  who  were  going  to  do  fruit-picking,  or  some 
such  work  on  farms  or  ranches  in  the  great  valley, 
along  the  river. 

That  afternoon  late,  not  long  before  Mahon  could 
have  heard  the  sunset  gun  of  one  of  the  forts  of  the  bay, 
on  tlie  mountain  height  Richard  made  an  attempt  to 
kill  me. 

And  that  night  which  my  father  passed  in  sleepless 
agony,  I  made  my  escape  from  the  log  hut  of  the  Black, 
whom  Richard  had  left  me  with.  In  the  woods  I  lay 
the  night  through  at  the  bottom  of  the  canyon  on  the 
boulders  close  by  the  cliff,  with  the  water  trickling  and 
the  moon  shining  from  the  clear  sky  on  the  glistening 
rocks,  as  in  the  city  through  fitful  rifts  of  flying  fog  it 
shone  on  my  father's  wet  face,  as  he  looked  at  her, 
thinking  of  the  last  clear  night  when  he  had  held  me  in 
his  arms  at  the  old  wharf.  I,  too,  felt  a  sudden  pang, 
before  falling  asleep,  the  old  wharf  coming  to  my  mind 
and  the  thought  of  him. 

When  my  father  found  the  record  of  my  baptism 
Richard's  lies  about  my  mother's  fate  vs^ere  of  course 
disclosed  to  him.  Plowever  much  Richard  must  have 
managed  to  lie  himself  clear  of  any  intentional  wrong- 
doing, and  however  much  my  father,  even  after  still 
further  experience  of  his  half-brother's  treachery,  may 
have  been  disinclined  to  believe  in  all  his  baseness,  it  was 
I'ot  possible,  since  the  idea  of  my  being  enticed  away, 
stolen,  had  once  been  entertained,  not  to  consider  Richard 

55 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

IIjc  possible  instigator  of  the  crime,  if  not  the  active  felon. 
The  best  detectives  to  be  had  in  the  place  were  employed 
by  my  father  without  success,  and  all  search  for  me  prov- 
ing unavailing,  my  death  by  drowning  again  seemed  not 
doubtful,  and  what  little  interest  the  case  had  excited,  soon 
died  out.  Who  was  there  to  take  any  interest?  Not 
many  families  lived  along  the  shore  near  the  wharf, 
and  among  them  I  was  known  only  by  the  children,  i 
belonged  to  no  one.  I  was  nobody's  child,  only  a  name- 
less, homeless  street  boy,  picked  up  by  my  masters  to 
work  for  them. 

They  missed  me,  I  am  sure  of  that.  I  had  been  a 
faithful  little  slave  to  them.  But  they  would  get  an- 
other, now  that  I  was  gone.  And  what  had  become  of  me, 
who  cared?  Nobody  but  he  alone,  whose  hair  in  a 
few  weeks  showed  streaks  of  gray. 

Oh,  father !    My  father !    My  father ! 

And  not  the  sorrow  alone,  but  the  bitter  self-accusa- 
tion !    The  remorse ! 

He  ought  to  have  known!  Ought  to  have  seen,  recog- 
nized! And  if  not  he  should  have  taken  me  away  any- 
how !  But  to  have  known  me  for  months,  to  have  gone 
week  after  week,  seeing  me  in  the  bondage  of  my  drudg- 
ery, becoming,  one  might  say,  an  accessory  to  my  two 
masters  in  enslaving  me,  as  told  by  ]\Ir.  Tem  Oldock, 
to  have  had  the  cruelty  of  being  kind  to  me,  kindling  regard 
in  me,  affection,  child-love  for  him,  seeing  and  enjoying 
his  success  with  how  great  a  gratification,  and  yet  to  have 
let  me  at  last,  paying  me  oft',  as  it  were,  with  a  few  paltry 
presents,  a  pair  of  boots,  a  knife!  What  though  I  had 
seemed,  no,  not  seemed,  been,  so  contented,  leading  such, 
\i  hard,  a  free  and  useful  life,  that  nobody  could  lightly 
think  of  breaking  it  up!   Now  life  itself  was  gone! 

And  thus  to  have  lost  his  own  child ! 


56 


CHROXICLES  OF  MAXUEL  AEAXUS 

A  year  passed  and  another.  A  boy  was  born  to  my 
father  whom  it  made  his  heart  sadder  to  look  at,  thinking 
h.e  saw  a  resemblance  to  the  lost  one. 

Sometime  after  the  birth  of  the  little  brother,  one 
day  in  some  business-transaction,  my  father  met  Mr. 
Tern  Oldock,  of  whom  he  had  not  seen  anything  for 
a  long  time.  When  the  business  had  been  despatched,  :\Ir. 
Tem  Oldock  remembered  and  told  him  "he  had  queer  news 
for  him.  Did  my  father  remember  a  little  half-caste 
boy,  called  Manuel,  who  used  to  live  on  an  old  wharf  near 
his  old  brewery,  who  one  day  had  left  the  place  and  was 
not  seen  any  more,  and  everybody  had  said  he  had  fallen 
overboard  and  been  drowned,  everybody  except  Mv.  Tem 
Oldock,  who  had  insisted  it  could  not  be?  Well,  that  boy 
he  had  seen  in  the  mountains,  four,  five  and  more  months 
ago,  may  be  nine  or  ten  months.  In  fact  that  boy  had 
saved  his  life:  the  same  as  he  had  also,  one  time 
hauled  his  son  Mahon,  Alahon  ]^Iark  Tem  Oldock,  out  of 
the  water  at  the  old  wharf,  years  ago.  Yes  1  Yes.  but 
for  that  boy  he  would  not  be  sitting  there  now." 

"He  had  been  under  a  cloud  since  quite  a  while," 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock  said.  "The  brewery-business  had 
been  given  up,  though  the  property  still  belonged  to 
him.  ^It  had  been  mostly  family-trouble  with  his 
second  wife,  Mahon's  step-mother  and  her  children  by 
a  form.er  husband.  It  had  been  other  trouble,  too. 
But  it  was  all  right  now.  He  was  rid  of  them  all. 
It  had  cost  him  a  good  bit  of  money,  but  not  more 
than  it  was  worth.  And  he  had  plenty  now.  And 
Mahon  was  his  only  child  and  would  have  plenty  too. 
A  couple  of  years  hence,  he  would  send  him  to  Europe 
and  make  a  gentleman  of  him.     That  was  all  right." 

"Well !  He  had  had  to  leave  the  city  a  year  ago,  or 
a  year  and  a  half,  or  more,  on  account  of  his  troubles 
and  had  been  in  the  mountains  building  roads,  bridges, 
flumes,  mills.     He  had  made  a  good  deal  of  money. 

57 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

He  had  got  hold  of  a  good  deal  of  good  mining-prop- 
erty too.  He  supposed  he  was  going  to  be  a  very  rich 
man  some  day.  But  it  would  have  been  all  up  with  him 
but  for  that  boy.  He  must  always  think  how  his  wife, 
that  was  Mahon's  mother  that  was  dead,  had  liked  that 
little  boy  very  much.  He  was  small.  And  now  he  had 
saved  his  life.  He  was  not  very  big  now,  not  much  taller 
than  he  was  at  the  wharf." 

**He  had  met  him  twice.  It  was  at  a  place  called 
Purple  Gulch.  Some  called  it  Purple  Creek.  Some 
good  mines  were  there,  and  some  people  had  made 
money  there.  But  it  was  nothing  to  what  it  first  was 
cracked  up  to  be.  And  the  excitement  about  his  had 
all  died  out." 

"Well,  he  had  been  building  a  road  to  the  place, 
and  it  had  been  just  completed.  And  right  where  the 
old  road  and  the  new  road  came  together,  at  the  end  of 
the  town,  one  morning  as  he  had  been  crossing  the 
road,  the  old  road,  in  front  of  what  was  then  a  hotel, 
called  the  Mountain  House,  early,  before  sunrise  he 
had  come  upon  the  boy  unawares  under  some  pines.  The 
boy  seemed  to  have  been  camping  with  some  horses  and 
was  then  looking  for  some  water  in  the  creek,  to  water 
them.  They  had  met  right  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  the 
old  road.  And  the  boy  had  been  so  glad  to  see  him  that 
he  had  bitten  his  hand.  There !  That  was  the  scar !  It 
was  funny  to  think  the  boy  could  be  so  glad  to  see  him. 
He  had  been  so  glad  that  he  had  been  like  mad.  He  had 
thrown  himself  on  his  knees  in  the  foot-deep  dust  of  the 
road  and  clutched  him  round  the  legs  and  cried  and  pulled 
till  he  had  almost  made  him  fall.  And  when  he  had  put 
out  his  hand  the  boy  had  caught  it  to  kiss  it  and  in  his  ex- 
citement had  bitten  it.  There  was  the  scar !  But  when 
he  had  told  him  he  must  not  carry  on  so,  and  he 
must  appear  not  to  know  him,  not  come  near  him  nor 
mention   his   name,  because  there  were   parties   after 

58 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

him  with  attachments  and  garnishees  on  account  of 
his  trouble  in  the  city,  the  boy  had  understood  right  off 
and  stopped  immediately.  And  when  a  man  had 
stepped  out  of  the  hotel  and  called  the  boy,  the  boy 
had  run  to  him  and  acted  as  though  there  were  no 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock  in  existence." 

'Then  he  had  not  seen  him  again  till  many  months 
after,  and  then  he  had  only  seen  him,  had  not  spoken  to 
him.  And  that  had  been  on  the  last  day  he  was  in 
Purple  Gulch,  about  five  or  six  months  ago,  maybe  less !" 

"He  had  intended  going  away  before,  but  did  not. 
He  had  gotten  through  with  all  his  business ;  his 
money  had  all  been  sent  down  to  the  city.  There  had 
been  something,  some  trouble  about  something,  well,  about 
a  woman ;  and  a  man  had  attacked  him,  and  he  had  shot 
the  man  in  self-defence.  Then  a  party  of  roughs  had 
gone  out  to  lynch  him  if  the  ycould  find  him.  He  had  been 
hiding  in  pretty  secure  quarters,  and  handy  too,  but  with 
no  chance  to  get  away  unless  he  got  a  horse  which  no 
friends  could  procure  for  him,  being  spotted.  And  on 
that  day  that  boy,  Manuel,  had  been  at  Purple  Gulch  again, 
and  how,  he  could  not  tell,  but  the  boy  must  have  found 
out  the  fix  he  was  in.  Anyhow  the  boy  again  had  some 
horses  with  him  and  had  ridden  by  the  place  where  he 
was  hiding  several  times  with  the  horses,  so  that 
he  would  notice  him.  He  had  tied  them  conven- 
iently and  gone  a  bit  in  the  bushes  and  them  come 
back  and  ridden  away,  leaving  one  of  the  horses  be- 
hind, tied  where  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  could  get  at  it.  He 
had  got  it  and  ridden  away  on  it,  a  fine  gelding  that  car- 
ried him  all  the  way  to  Sacramento.  There  he  sold  it 
for  fifty  dollars." 

Then  in  his  way  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  went  all  over  his 
story  again,  beginning  at  the  end  and  telling  it  a 
second  time  and  perhaps  a  third  time,  with  repetitions 
and  explanations,  how  he  had  since  stood  trial  and  been 

59 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

acquitted.  He  had  no  perception  whatever  of  my  father's 
emotions,  remembering  only  the  mere  fact  that  he  had 
shown  some  such  interest,  and  to  say  "now  had  he  not 
been  right  in  declaring  it  was  nonsense  to  think  I  had 
been  drowned?  I  was  not  the  boy  to  fall  overboard  and 
drown.  He  would  bet  on  my  turning  up  all  right  every 
time.    He  only  wished  he  had  me  there  with  him  now." 

If  they  had  but  known  it,  while  they  were  thus  talking, 
I  must  have  been  within  a  dozen  blocks  distance  from 
them,  somewhere  on  the  city-waterfront. 

After  my  escape  from  the  cabin  of  the  Black  came 
my  flight  into  the  woods,  the  three  days  scramble  down 
the  rocky  canyon  following  the  nearly  dry  bed  of  the 
creek  through  the  interminable  mountain-forest,  my  ar- 
rival in  the  open  valley  and  my  being  picked  up  in  the 
brush  of  the  foot-hills  by  the  two  farming  men.  Old 
France  and  young  Hants,  had  taken  me  to  their  place. 
Five  Oaks,  on  the  hill.  I  had  remained  there  on  the  farm 
v\-ith  them,  working  for  them  as  I  had  worked  for  Nick 
and  Nello  on  the  old  wharf,  or  before  that  for  Antonio 
in  his  vegetable  fields,  yes,  and  before  that  for  the  Dark 
Wom.an.  Only  I  had  now  to  work  much  harder  and  ir- 
addition  to  my  other  work  take  my  lessons  with  Old 
France,  who  gave  me  most  thoroughly  all  the  school 
teaching  he  could.  For  this  and  many  other  things  I  owe 
the  old  German  schoolmaster  that  he  was,  more  gratitude 
than  I  can,  in  truth  say  I  feel.  For  what  should  I  be 
without  them?  He  did  not  teach  me  enough  English,  pre- 
ferring to  make  Spanish  the  language  of  my  instruction, 
since  he  was  fairly  master  of  it  and  accidentally  in  posses- 
sion of  some  Spanish  school  books,  but  more  than  that  and 
for  the  principal  reason,  I  suppose,  that  Spanish  was  the 
language  I  knew  best. 

AVhen,  about  twelve  months  after  I  had  come  to 
them.  Young  Hants  broke  with  Old  France,  gave  up 
farming  to  go  back  to  mining  and  left  us  to  seek  his 

60 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

fortune  in  the  new  gold-diggings  at  Purple  Gulch,  he 
borrowed  me  for  the  trip,  to  go  there  on  my  horse  with 
him,  to  bring  back  the  pack-horse  which  carried  Jiis 
things.  It  was  then  that  I  met  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  at  Pur- 
ple Creek  where  I  had  arrived  with  Young  Hants  late  at 
night  and  slept  with  the  horses  under  the  pines  while 
Young  Hants  had  spent  the  night  at  the  hotel  close  by. 
I  had  early  got  up  to  go  across  the  road  to  the  creek  to 
find  a  suitable  place  for  watering  the  horses.  Young 
Hants  started  me  back  to  Five  Oaks  that  morning,  hav- 
ing made  up  his  mind  to  keep  the  pack-horse,  which  was 
a  good  work-horse  and  saddle-horse  too,  and  I  thereby 
lost  every  chance  to  be  met  by  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  again  at 
that  time. 

Of  course  I  have  no  intimate  knowledge  of  the  busi- 
ness relations  of  the  two  men  I  was  with  at  the  ranch. 
But  I  can  be  reasonably  sure  that  they  worked  the  farm 
on  share  for  the  owner,  the  Boss  we  called  him,  who 
lived  at  his  beautiful  place,  Fountain  Head,  in  the 
upper  foot-hills.  All  that  section  of  the  country  belonged 
to  him,  the  large  Fountain  Head  Ranch.  Five  Oaks  was 
only  a  very  small  corner  of  the  estate.  With  the  Boss, 
Young  Hants,  before  he  went  away,  must  have  come  to 
some  understanding  about  their  affairs,  for  with  his  leav- 
ing, our  farming  was  practically  at  an  end.  Outside  the 
housework  and  some  gardenwork  Old  France  was  good 
for  very  little.  And  he  grew  more  and  more  forgetful. 
He  and  I  continued  to  live  together  in  our  little  house  on 
the  hill.  I  slept  in  the  outside,  open  room  as  before. 
Young  Hants's  bunk,  inside,  was  kept  unoccupied,  as 
though  he  might  come  back  any  day,  which  I  am  sure  Old 
France  expected  at  first  confidently.  If  as  time  went  on 
less  and  less  did  he  look  forward  to  it  still  he  never  lost 
all  hope  and  at  last  clung  to  the  idea  with  a  kind  of  dull 
despair.  We  cultivated  our  garden  as  before,  v/e  had 
cur  poultry  as  before,  our  cov/s.  some  hogs  and  horses. 

6i 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

We  had  plenty  of  feed  for  all :  oats  and  corn,  beans  and 
carrots,  wheat-hay  and  barley-hay  in  stacks,  enough  to 
last  till  the  rains  would  come  and  the  new  grass  grow. 
But  with  all  this,  we  lived  on  our  place  as  if  on  suffrage. 
For  any  work  that  went  beyond  my  little  strength  the  Boss 
had  to  send  someone  from  Fountain  Head.  If  Old 
France  had  the  use  of  Five  Oaks  and  its  products,  as 
far  as  he  could  make  use  of  them,  he  had  nothing  to  offer 
in  return  and  the  Boss  nothing  to  receive  as  his  share, 
except  my  work  at  Fountain  Head,  my  labor  in  the  gar- 
den and  grounds  there,  which  the  Boss  now  often  called 
for. 

At  my  first  visit  to  Fountain  Head,  some  months 
after  my  coming  to  Five  Oaks,  when  Hants  one  Sun- 
day had  taken  me  to  see  the  Boss  and  his  fine  place, 
the  Boss  had  learned  that  I  was  handy  at  garden-work 
and  conscientious  in  doing  what  I  was  told  to  do.  He 
had  even  since  wanted  my  services.  His  great  hobby 
was  the  changing,  enlarging  and  improving  the  grounds 
around  the  dwelling  house,  all  growing  into  a  beautiful 
park.     He  had  some  Chinamen  constantly  at  work  on  it. 

Hants  had  never  entertained  the  proposition  of  giv- 
ing me  up  to  the  Boss  for  any  time  or  any  work,  want- 
ing me  badly  enough  to  work  himself,  and  for  my  own 
sake,  too,  in  kindly  consideration  for  me.  On  that  first 
visit  to  the  Boss  I  had  shown  a  great  reluctance  to  meeting 
him  and  afterwards  a  strong  disinclination  to  going  there 
again.  However,  since  Hants  had  gone  away  there  was 
no  more  opposing  the  wishes  of  the  Boss,  and  my  trips 
from  Five  Oaks  to  Fountain  Head  for  one  or  two  days 
at  a  time  or  even  longer  to  work,  soon  became  frequent. 

At  one  of  these  visits,  some  seven  or  eight  months 
after  my  going  to  Purple  Gulch  with  Young  Hants 
and  my  meeting  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  there,  the  Boss  gave 
me  a  letter  which  had  come  for  Hants.  Instead  of  taking 
it  home  to  Five  Oaks  and  giving  it  to  Old  France  for 

62 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

safe-keeping  or  further  forwarding,  as  I  was  meant  to 
do,  I  put  it  in  my  hat,  and  on  my  own  account,  not  saying 
anything  to  anybody,  rode  oft"  with  it  to  Purple  Gulch, 
to  bring  it  to  Hants  myself,  llie  real  motive  in  my  heart 
was  the  irresistible  desire  to  see  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  again. 

How  I  learned  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  predicament  at  that 
time,  I  do  not  at  all  recall  now.  I  remember  being  with 
Hants  and  other  men  on  the  street  in  Purple  Creek  and 
hearing  them  speak  about  his  case.  They  seemed  all 
friendly  to  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  but  unable  to  help  him.  I 
can  dimly  recall  somebody  mentioning  to  me  the  place 
where  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  was  hiding,  or  the  vicinity,  and 
saying,  he  might  get  away  if  he  had  a  horse,  but  having 
no  horse,  he  was  sure  to  fall  finally  into  the  hands  of  the 
roughs  and  be  killed.  At  this  I  was  seized  with  such  fear 
for  him  that  I  went  to  ask  Young  Hants  most  boldly  to 
let  me  take  home  the  extra  horse  he  had  kept  since  he  first 
came  to  Purple  Gulch,  speaking  so  that  he  should  think 
I  had  been  sent  with  the  letter  for  the  particular  pur- 
pose of  fetching  that  horse.  And  he  took  it  that  way 
and  told  me  with  more  temper  than  I  had  ever  yet 
seen  him  display,  "to  take  the  horse  and  go  to  hell."  It 
was  a  fine  halfblood  gelding.  Aly  horse  was  perhaps 
as  speedy  and  had  just  as  much  bottom,  but  was  not 
fresh  and  it  was  a  little  light  for  a  man  of  Mr.  Tem  Old- 
ock's weight  to  go  a  long  distance  on. 

I  left  the  horse  near  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  hiding  place 
and  I  think  I  never  doubted  but  what  he  now  would 
make  his  escape.  Yet  I  never  knew  if  he  did  until  long 
after. 

When  Hants  came  some  months  afterwards  to  Five 
Oaks  on  his  short  farewell  visit,  before  going  away 
for  good,  back  East,  I  remember  how  glad  I  was  he 
did  not  speak  about  the  horse,  and  yet  I  was  most  anxious 
to  hear  him  say  something  about  Mr.  Tem  Oldock.  I 
felt  that  he  must  suspect  what  I  had  done.     With  Old 

63 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

France  I  certainly  never  needed  to  be  the  least  bit  careful. 
He  never  understood.  When  I  had  this  time  come 
back  from  Purple  Gulch,  long  after  the  middle  of  the 
moonlight  night,  and  made  my  appearance  before  him 
early  in  the  morning,  he  never  knew  but  what  I  had 
come  direct  from  Fountain  Head  after  a  stay  there 
of  a  day  longer.  He  was  glad  I  had  come  back  to  do 
the  work  of  the  place  and  to  have  my  school-lessons 
with  him,  that  was  all.  The  only  thing  he  now  cared 
for  and  used  up  all  his  energy  on,  was  this  teaching 
me,  in  which  he  very  systematically  proceeded  and 
continued.  And  I  can  say  of  myself  that  I  was  as  eager 
to  learn  as  be  was  to  teach. 

However  T  must  admit  that  I  most  loved  my  music, 
singing  the  old  man's  songs,  hymns  and  chorals  and 
longer  pieces,  now  alone,  now  with  him,  taking  the 
second  to  his  thin  treble,  or  the  first  to  his  second ;  play- 
ing his  old,  repaired  guitar,  and  a  cheap  mandolin  Hants 
had  brought  me  one  day  from  somewhere,  perhaps  from. 
the  Boss.  This  had  been  an  unknown  instrument  to  Old 
France  before.  I  learned  to  play  the  mandolin  very 
quickly ;  and  so  did  he.  He  was  as  musical  as  I,  or  more 
so,  and  loved  music  as  much  as  I  did,  and  was  well  sat- 
isfied to  let  me  give  up  every  idle  moment  to  my  music. 
Only  it  was  not  to  interfere  with  my  other  general  lessons 
as  did  my  trips  to  Fountain  Head  for  which  reason  Old 
France  heartily  detested  them.  But  he  did  not  know 
how  to  prevent  them  any  more  than  I  did. 

Later,  every  Saturday  morning  I  had  to  go  to  Foun- 
tain Head  and  remain  there  till  Sunday  evening,  w^ork- 
ing  in  the  grounds  all  the  time  it  was  daylight  under 
th€  personal  supervision  of  the  Boss.  Sometimes  though, 
if  there  was  some  special  work  at  Five  Oaks,  I  would 
quit  work  at  Fountain  Head  on  Saturday  evening  and 
ride  home,  or,  maybe,  would  not  go  up  to  Fountain  Head 
at  all  that  week.     Or  on  the  other  hand  tlie  Boss  might 

64 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

keep  me  one  day  longer,  or  two  days,  if  he  had  some 
new  idea  to  carry  out. 

I  never  did  care  much  for  ornamental  garden  work, 
although,  most  assuredly  I  always  have  liked  work  of 
all  kind.  As  for  working  on  Sundays,  it  seems  to  me 
I  never  had  a  Sunday  when  a  child,  never  knew  Sunday 
but  as  a  day  for  harder  w^ork.  Yet  I  knew  it  seemed 
good  to  have  a  day  of  rest.  And  as  all  hands  at  Foun- 
tain Head  kept  Sunday,  even  the  Chinamen,  it  did  not 
seem  quite  fair  that  I  alone  must  work.  It  felt  lone- 
some and  I  did  not  like  to  have  the  Boss  round  me  so 
contsantly,  and  not  that  he  was  ever  rough  with  me. 
He  never  gave  me  an  unkind  word,  but  I  was  not  used 
to  being  watched  at  my  work.  It  was  not  necessary. 
And  the  Boss  knew  that  himself,  only  he  was  too  fussy 
to  leave  me  alone.  Or  perhaps,  being  very  good  at  that 
kind  of  work  himself  he  liked  the  instructing  and  teach- 
ing of  it  to  me,  the  same  as  Old  France  liked  to  instruct 
in  his  line.  And  so  he  stayed  with  me  at  my  work  for 
the  gratification  of  this  liking. 

His  way  of  wanting  to  be  making  fun  all  the  time  I 
had  soon  come  not  to  mind,  though  it  was  tiresome. 

But  all  this  was  nothing  compared  with  that  other 
feeling,  that  ever-present  dread  of  meeting  at  Fountain 
Head  some  time  that  strange  man  who  had  brought 
me  away  from  our  old  wharf,  for  did  I  not  know  that 
he  must  be  an  acquaintance  of  the  Boss?  Had  I  not 
seen  them  together?  That  morning  when  I  had  found 
myself  out  of  the  canyon,  clear  of  the  mountain-woods 
in  the  great  open  valley,  at  the  foot  of  the  hills  where 
the  road  came  down,  not  half  an  hour  before  Hants 
picked  me  up,  had  not  he,  that  strange  man,  as  I  lay  hid- 
ing in  the  thicket,  passed  by  me  in  his  buggy,  the  same 
buggy  and  the  same  horses  with  which  he  had  taken  me 
into  the  mountains.  There  was  another  gentleman  by  his 
side,  talking  in  a  high-pitched  voice  and  laughing  in  a 

65 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

peculiar  way.  And  the  first  time  I  had  come  to  Fountain 
Head  with  Hants,  had  I  not  recognized  in  the  Boss  that 
other  gentleman,  the  same  one  with  the  high-pitched 
voice  and  the  peculiar  laugh?  Therefore  must  not  the 
two  be  acquainted?  Must  not  that  strange  man  at 
that  time  have  been  visiting  the  Boss  at  Fountain 
Head,  in  all  reason  going  there  directly  after  leaving 
me  with  the  Black  at  the  log-hut  on  the  mountain- 
side? And  if  he  had  been  visiting  at  Fountain  Head 
then,  might  he  not  come  visiting  there  again  an}'^  day 
as  did  other  acciuaintances  of  the  Boss? 

If  I  never  w^as  without  the  thought  of  meeting  my 
fate,  never  felt  safe,  always  feeling  myself  to  be  under  a 
ban,  always  in  the  dread  of  seeing  that  man  appear,  it 
was  worse  at  Fountain  Head,  where  any  day  round  any 
corner,  from  behind  any  bush,  any  tree,  from  any  arriving 
liorse  or  wagon  he  might  come  upon  me.  And  my  fears 
^vere  a  prophecy,  for  he  did  one  Saturday  night  at  Foun- 
tain head   step  down   in   front  of  me. 

That  night,  when  three,  four  gentlemen,  friends  and 
acquaintances  of  the  Boss,  coming  from  the  city  to 
stay  with  him  at  his  place  for  a  few  days'  outing,  arrived 
late  in  the  dark  of  the  night,  being  fetched  by  the  Boss 
himself  from  the  river-landing  in  his  four-horse  carry- 
all, I  recognized  among  them,  by  the  light  of  the  lantern 
1  held  myself,  that  man,  my  fate.  It  now  had  come  what 
I  always  had  known,  must  happen  some  day  and  I  fled 
the  place.  Riding  all  night  on  my  horse  on  the  road 
down  the  hills  and  through  the  great  valley,  I  reached 
at  daybreak  the  steamboat-landing,  boarded  the  next 
down-boat  and  w^as  landed  that  same  day  in  the  big 
bay  city. 

Here  for  a  time  I  gained  my  livelihood  on  the  water- 
front, principally  by  dishwashing  and  bootblacking,  till 
Captain  Smidkins  of  the  schooner  Good  Fellow  took  me 
on  board  his  vessel  as  ship's  bov  and  cook's  mate,  to  go 

66 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

to  the  Southern  coast.  And  when  Air.  Tern  Olclock  was 
telHng  his  story  to  my  father  it  must  have  been  but  shortly 
after  I  had  come  to  the  city,  passing  my  time  on  the  water- 
front, working  by  day  and  crying  myself  to  sleep  every 
night  with  homesickness  for  the  farm,  for  every  animal, 
every  tree,  the  fields,  the  mountains,  all  the  country, 
all  that  I  had  had  to  leave  and  must  now  never  go  back 
to  again. 

It  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  any  search  for  the 
boy  at  Purple  Gulch  would  be  a  failure.  Some  claims 
there  had  paid  well  but  were  now  worked  out.  Some 
distance  from  the  place,  there  were  a  few  good  mines, 
among  w^hicli,  I  believe  was  the  claim  of  Hants,  which 
had  passed  into  the  hands  of  San  Francisco  capitalists 
and  were  bemg  w-orked  to  good  advantage.  But  as  to 
the  camp  itself,  it  was  dying  ofif  faster  than  it  had 
sprung  into  existence,  like  so  many  mining-towns  in 
California.  Everybody  was  leaving  or  trying  to  get 
away.  Nobody  had  time  to  try  to  remember  a  boy  of 
whom  nothing  could  be  said  except  that  he  had  been  twice 
in  the  place  with  some  horses  and  that  he  looked  some- 
what the  mixed  breed  he  was.  All  search  proved  vain, 
leaving  in  its  fruitlessness  my  father  in  greater  sorrow 
than  before.  Before  this,  the  boy  had  to  him  been  dead. 
He  had  from  the  first  really  never  doubted  but  that  he  had 
fallen  overboard  and  been  drowned  ;  and  though  always 
mourned,  alwavs  remembered  with  tendcrest  sorrow,  vet 
it  was  as  for  something  dead  and  gone  forever  and  al- 
ready become  only  a  memory. 

Now  to  learn  hat  he  was  alive,  but  unattainable,  what 
new  anguish  !  Even  if  it  was  at  the  first  moment  a  stroke 
of  life-giving  joy  to  hear  he  was  not  dead,  to  think 
that  he  should  be  living,  may  be  close  by  and  yet  not  to 
be  reached,  that  he  might  be  in  want,  sufifering  in  distress 
and  yet  not  be  helped,  what  new  grief!  It  grew  from 
dav  to  day  after  the  first  flush  of  ioy  and  hope  died  awav 

67 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

as  it  became  in  sober  consciousness  clear  how  small  the 
odds  were,  that  he  would  be  found ! 

One  main  cause  of  the  failure  was,  I  am  sure,  that 
Thomson  was  believed  at  that  time  to  be  responsible  for 
the  boy's  disappearance  from  the  old  wharf,  and  his 
presence  afterwards  in  the  mining  camp  of  Purple  Gulch. 
It  must  have  seemed  quite  a  clear  case  since  Thomson 
had  tried  to  find  the  boy  in  the  city,  about  the  time  the 
boy  had  disappeared.  Thomson  was  mining  somev/here 
in  the  foot-hills  of  the  Sierra;  the  boy  had  been  seen 
at  some  new  diggings  in  the  foot-hills,  just  such  a  place 
as  would  attract  an  old  miner  like  Thomson.  So  all  ener- 
gies were  concentrated  to  get  on  the  tracks  of  Thomson 
and  instead  of  looking  in  the  nearer  neighborhood,  search 
was  made  in  distant  districts,  where  Thomson  was  sup- 
posed to  have  mined  in  bygone  times. 

But  this  does  not  explain,  and  I  cannot  understand 
why  my  faher  did  not  go  to  Fountain  Head.  He  was 
with  his  detective  in  Purple  Gulch.  The  road  to  that 
place  passed  within  not  a  great  many  miles  of  Fountain 
Head.  He  knew  it.  Formerly  he  had  not  seldom  been 
at  Fountain  Head.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
Boss,  better  in  fact  than  his  brother  was.  Why  then  did 
he  not  go  there  when  on  his  way  to  and  from  Purple 
Gulch  when  he  was  within  a  few  miles  of  it.  If  he  had 
done  so  he  must  surely  have  heard  some  talk  of  the  recent 
flight  of  a  half-breed  boy  and  have  discovered  that  boy's 
identity. 

But  then,  if  he  had  gone  there  while  I  was  at  Five 
Oaks,  or  even  at  the  very  time  of  his  coming  at  Fountain 
Head  itself,  I  doubt  if  he  would  ever  have  gotten  the 
chance  to  speak  to  me,  to  tell  me  who  he  was  and  to 
let  himself  to  recognized  by  me. 

The  poison  of  the  drug  in  my  veins,  the  horrors  it  had 
bred  in  me,  the  treatment  at  the  hands  of  Richard  Alanus, 
the  Black,  and  the  dog,  my  flight  at  night  in  the  woods ; 

68 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  clatter  of  the  horse  of  the  Black  in  pursuit  in  my 
ears,  after  me,  at  my  back,  the  three  days  in  the  wilds,  and 
the  seeing  again  of  Richard,  it  was  all  in  me  like 
a  delirium.  The  fire  in  my  brain  seemed  always  there. 
Night  after  night  in  my  dreams  that  distorted  face  would 
appear  to  me  as  I  had  seen  it  over  me,  close  to  mine,  or 
the  face  of  the  Black  with  its  horrible  scars,  or  the  mis- 
shapen dog.  I  was  ever  on  the  watch.  Every  outcrop- 
ping rock,  every  stump  of  a  tree  might  hide  one  or  the 
other  of  my  enemies.  The  rustling  of  birds  or  squirrels 
under  the  dry  brush  might  be  them. 

Hants  had  rigged  me  up  a  sort  of  bunk  in  the  open 
room  at  one  end  of  the  little  house  at  Five  Oaks,  but  at 
first  I  never  stayed  there,  and  later  only  when  I  could  get 
the  dogs  to  stay  there  with  me,  or  in  the  wet  season  when 
it  rained  at  night.  When  I  was  sent  to  bed  after  my 
evening-reading  and  our  talk  about  the  same,  which  I 
would  spin  out  as  long  as  I  could,  asking  innumerable 
questions,  I  would  go  to  my  bunk,  of  course,  and  then 
as  soon  as  I  saw  the  light  in  the  house  put  out,  I  would 
get  up  again  and  go  and  climb  an  old  madrone  tree, 
standing  at  the  head  of  the  gully,  where  the  road  from 
the  Bottom  came  up.  The  long,  twisting  branches  gave 
me  a  good  seat  for  a  sleeping-place  from  which  I  could 
drop  into  the  underbrush  at  either  side  of  the  gulch  to 
escape.  For  the  dizzzy  spasms  that  came  with  my  dream, 
I  had  a  piece  of  hayrope  to  tie  myself  with  so  I  should  not 
fall  out  of  my  sleeping-seat.  But  sometimes  when  the 
dream  came,  I  would  think  I  could  not  untie  myself. 
They  were-  on  my  track  and  I  would  pull  and  tear  and 
could  not  get  myself  loose.  And  waking  up,  wet  with 
sweat,  my  heart  beating  in  my  throat,  I  would  imagine  I 
heard  them,  they  were  coming:  the  strange  man,  the 
Black  with  his  knife,  and  the  dog.  And  I  would  listen, 
the  cold  terrors  shaking  my  skin,  till  I  was  sure  I  really 

69 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

did  hear  something  coming,  creeping,  crawHng,  nearer, 
nearer. 

When  I  had  learned  to  be  at  home  on  horseback,  I 
became  quieted  a  Httle.  I  then  slept  in  the  haystack  by 
the  corral,  where  I  could  always  get  one  of  the  horses. 
Hut  the  Sunday  trip  with  Hants  to  Fountain  Head  where 
in  the  Boss,  1  recognized  the  man  I  had  seen  in  the 
buggy  witli  Richard  Alanus,  threw  me  back  again  into 
my  former  state  of  terror  for  a  long  time,  till  the  heavy 
rains  had  come,  w  hen  the  gullies  all  ran  with  w^ater,  the 
creeks  were  full,  the  roads  were  streams  of  sticky  mire, 
when  the  drab  ground  turned  first  brown,  then  purplish 
black  and  then  broke  into  the  gi'een  of  the  new  grass  and 
the  thousand  kinds  of  new  plants,  when  the  distant  hills 
came  out  of  the  haze,  the  wooded  heights  above  the  hills 
showed  themselves  nearer  and  the  far-away  crest  of  the 
mountains  shone  white  and  sharp  against  the  sky  and  sent 
down  a  chilly  air,  and  all  seemed  not  what  it  had  been 
and  nobody  in  it  stirred  abroad,  I  then  felt  more  as- 
sured of  being  safe.  But  even  then,  I  ever  was  on  the 
watch.  Only  by  surprise  and  suddenly,  so  that  I  should 
have  no  time  to  act,  could  I  have  been  caught  and  taken 
alive  by  any  stranger.  Yes,  had  my  father  brought 
Mahon  along  or  his  father,  then  he  would  have  succeeded 
in  getting  hold  of  me!  And  he  might  have  hit  on  that 
expedient. 

Still  what  difference  would  it  all  have  made,  since  I 
was  no  longer  there?  I  could  not  have  been  traced  any 
more  than  I  could  be  found  as  it  was.  It  would  only  have 
been  so  much  more  harrowing  to  my  father,  for  whom 
another  blow  was  preparing. 

I  did  not  arise  in  that  narrow-mindedness  which  is  the 
good  ground  wherein  suspicion  flourishes,  he  had  never 
mistrusted  his  wife.  She  had  for  years  been  a  good  deal 
away  from  him,  staying  in  resorts  of  the  seasons,  with  oc- 
casional trips  of  travel  interspersed.     Cora  often  went 

70 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

with  the  mother,  who  cared  for  her  at  such  times  as 
lor  a  pretty  doll.  While  my  father  was  most  occupied 
with  the  search  for  me,  my  father's  wife  was  away  on  a 
more  extended  tour  through  the  Southern  part  of  the 
United  States,  met  and  stayed  with  at  certain  places  by 

Richard. 

It  was  shortly  after  their  return  that  little  Harry's  foot 
was  cut  and  mangled  in  the  knives  of  a  mower  in  the 
hay-field  near  the  dwelling-house  on  my  father's  ranch. 
And  as  a  fearful  thing  it  may  be  to  say.  never  can  I  put 
the  thought  out  of  my  head  that  it  was  Cora  wh  )  pushed 
the  child  into  the  machine.  The  foot  had  to  be  taken  oft, 
and  Marry  was  yet  hovering  near  death,  when  the  mother 
left  him/left  all  and  openly  went  to  live  with  Richard 
Alanus. 

This  was  under  Richard's  direction  for  she  did  nothing 
of  herself.  She  cared  not  one  way  or  the  other.  She 
would  stay  with  my  father  or  leave  him  just  as  Richard 
directed.  I  don't  think  she  cared  for  my  father  less,  or 
for  Richard  more  than  anybody  else.  Richard  had  been 
the  first  to  seduce  and  direct  her  and  had  kept  on  doing  so, 
and  by  that  had  made  her  his  dependent.  In  any  case  she 
would  have  become  the  dependent  of  anybody  that  took 
upon  himself  to  seduce  and  direct  her;  the  rest  being 
brought  about  and  the  details  shaped  by  opportunity  and 
circumstances. 

Richard  never  cared  for  her  except  as  he  could  use 
her  against  my  father.  Here  was  something  by  which 
to  dishonor  him,  wrong  him  and  hurt  him,  who  had  all 
but   given   his   life,   to   keep   wrong  and   hurt    from  that 

devil. 

As  long  as  she  remained  with  my  father  she  commanded 
his  wealth.  It  was  my  father's  money  coming  to  Richard 
through  my  father's  wife,  that  paid  for  most  of  the  lux- 
uries Richard  enjoyed,  after  their  last  breach,  which 
never  could  be  mended.     Why  did  she  leave  my  father 

71 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

now?       Or  why  did  not  Richard  forbid  her  to  take  that 
step? 

I  think  the  reason  was  the  discovery  of  her  infidehty, 
such  a  thing  being  final.  And  perhaps,  being  so,  there 
was  nothing  left  for  her  to  do  better  than  to  go  to  her 
paramour;  nor,  being  taken  unawares,  could  he  prevent 
her.  She  tried  to  take  Cora  with  her,  but  was  foiled. 
Yet  1  do  not  think  she  tried  very  hard.  Nor  do  I  think 
that  Richard  at  bottom  cared  more  for  his  daughter  than 
for  her  mother.  And  Cora  in  my  father's  house  was 
something  to  fight  about,  to  harass  my  father  with,  to 
wring  his  heart  with  the  fear  of  losing.  For  wlio  that 
knows  the  latitude  given  women's  claims  in  law-courts 
here  could  doubt  the  more  than  probability  of  the  courts, 
upon  suit  being  brought  at  any  time  by  the  mother,  giving 
her  possession  of  the  daughter.  So  my  father  was  left 
in  possession  of  Cora  for  the  present. 

The  separation  should  have  brought  my  father  relief, 
like  the  regaining  of  one's  freedom!  And  I  suppose  it 
did  to  a  degree  after  a  while  at  least.  Only  my  father's 
life  had  been  so  entirely  one  of  self-sacrifice  that  without 
it  life  seemed  aimless.  As  we  all,  after  every  tear  and 
rent  set  ourselves  to  work  to  try  and  patch  up  our  life 
again  and  again,  till  the  last  day  and  the  last  hour  to  suit 
the  wants  and  cravings  of  our  nature,  so  did  my  father 
now  put  Cora  in  the  place  her  mother  had  occupied  be- 
fore. At  least  she  came  into  the  place  and  he  let  it  be 
so.  And,  of  course,  it  was  all  quite  different  from  what 
it  had  been.  Cora  he  loved  as  the  object  of  his  fondness. 
Her  great  power  over  him  lay  in  her  suffering  him  to 
do  so  with  just  enough  show  of  returning  his  fond  affec- 
tion, never  too  little,  not  too  much,  and  like  a  trained 
wanton,  never  quite  denying  him,  never  altogether  satis- 
fying him,  nor  making  her  caresses  cheap,  always  keeping 
something  back  with  which  she  could,  if  need  be,  over- 

72 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

whelm  and  subjugate  him.  And  with  all  she  was  always 
hating  him ! 

The  other  Cora  was  the  child-woman,  now  in  her 
mother's  place,  indulged  by  her  father  as  her  mother  had 
been,  and  answering  it  not  alone  with  indifference  as  her 
mother  had  done,  but  with  show  of  temper.  Her  mother 
had  not  had  that  and  her  contemptuous  airs  her  mother 
was  too  simple  a  fool  to  know  how  to  practise.  And 
even  herein  she  knew  her  limit  with  perfect  understand- 
ing. If  she  was  to  be  dressed  stylishly  and  carry  herself 
proudly,  travel  on  the  train  with  her  father  on  Monday 
mornings  from  his  country-place  to  town,  to  her  school 
in  the  city,  and  back  on  Friday  niglits,  be  talked  to  on  the 
train  by  gentlemen  and  ladies,  and  talk  back  smartly,  be 
admired  and  receive  all  favor,  all  attention,  it  v.'as  her 
design  for  him  to  be  proud  of  his  little  lady  child  That 
he  was  not  given  to  making  a  show  of  anything  was  his 
fault. 

She  was  at  a  boarding-school  in  the  city.  He  lived  at 
his  house  on  the  ranch  in  the  upper  part  of  Santa  Clara 
Valley,  coming  to  town  to  business  on  the  train  every 
morning  and  returning  in  the  afternoon.  Sometimes,  but 
not  often,  he  stayed  in  town  over  night  at  his  city-resi- 
dence near  South  Park,  or  at  a  hotel  where  he  had  rooms. 
Every  Friday  afternoon  he  would  call  for  Cora  at  her 
school  and  take  her  to  the  ranch  to  stay  till  Monday 
morning,  when  she  would  go  back  to  town  with  him. 
Decidedly  there  was  a  comfort  in  this  way  of  life  that 
he  had  not  known  before.  He  had  Cora  now  all  to  him- 
self. She  was  not  the  silly  thing  her  mother  was.  How 
pleasant  it  was  to  make  these  trips  with  her !  How  pretty 
she  looked !  How  engagingly  and  yet  not  affectedly  she 
would  talk  to  the  gentlemen  on  the  train,  going  to  and 
from  their  country-seats  the  same  as  he ! 

Besides  this  he  would  call  at  her  school  every  few  days 
to  see  her  and  once  a  week,  may  be,  he  would  come  with 

73 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

bis  carriage  and  take  her  for  a  ride  through  the  park. 
The  trips  on  the  train  with  all  the  more  or  less  well  ac- 
quainted set  of  people  that  paid  her  so  much  attention, 
she  fully  enjoyed.  For  the  drives  with  my  father,  she 
cared  little ;  and  still  less  did  she  care  for  the  Saturdays 
and  Sundays  at  the  ranch,  unless  there  were  visitors  or 
visitings.  Only,  to  be  sure,  there  was  always  the  pleasure 
of  persecuting  and  illtreating  the  gentle,  little  cripple, 
Harry,  doing  things  to  him  that  yet  make  me  set  my 
teeth. 

Harry  at  the  time  of  the  accident  had  been  about  six- 
teen months  old.  His  leg  had  been  cut  off  below  the 
knee.  Contrary  to  all  expectation  he  had  recovered.  He 
wore  a  capping  on  his  leg,  into  which  was  screwed  a  hard- 
wood stick  that  was  replaced  by  a  new  one  whenever  it 
was  worn  down,  or  outgrown.  He  had  been  a  very 
small  baby  and  his  accident  still  further  retarded  his 
growth.  Afterwards  he  grew  faster  till  he  was  of  nor- 
mal height.  When  he  should  have  been  grown  he  would, 
of  course,  have  better  provision  for  his  walking.  But  it 
was  astonishing  how  quick  and  nimble  he  was.  He  could 
walk  as  straight  and  even  and  he  could  run  as  fast  as  if 
had  no  wooden  stick  for  a  leg,  and  he  never  stumbled. 

At  this  time  there  came  over  my  father  again  the  mood 
that  would  seize  him  from  time  to  time,  as  it  had  done 
probably  all  his  life  and  certainly  since  he  had  left  home, 
the  mood  that  had  preceded  his  first  meeting  witli  me, 
when  he  had  for  weeks  given  himself  up  to  the  silent 
workings  of  his  melancholy,  secluding  himself  outside  of 
business,  from  people  he  knew,  frequently  by  himself  the 
poorer  streets  of  the  town,  shyly  observant  of  people  and 
his  little  friends,  the  children.  For  three,  four  days  he 
would  not  go  out  to  his  ranch,  not  fetch  Cora,  but  would 
stay  in  town  over  Sunday,  loitering  about,  oftenest  along 
the  water  front,  as  if  something  were  telling  him  to  watch 
the  shipping ;  and  day  after  day  out  to  the  old,  long  wharf 

74 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

which  was  beginning  to  go  to  pieces.  Piles  and  timbers 
were  rotting  away  in  the  ground  where  it  was  being 
filled  in  with  rocks  and  dirt  that  were  steadily  gain- 
ing on  the  water.  The  planking  was  sprung  and  warped, 
half-broken  ends  sticking  up  and  hanging  down,  part- 
twisted,  only  passable  with  carefully  picked  steps.  And 
it  all  deserted !  The  shanty  burnt  down !  Every  vestige 
of  it  gone,  nothing  but  the  charred,  square  space  of  the 
old  wharf-planking  marking  the  place  where  it  had  stood! 
But  part  of  the  open  shed  was  still  standing,  with  some 
boards  broken  away  right  in  the  corner  where  the  old 
boat-sails  had  lain  stow^ed  up,  on  which  his  boy  used  to 
sleep,  where  he  found  him  that  first  night,  when  he 
brought  him  wherewith  to  still  his  hunger. 

What  an  empty  thing  life  now  seemed  to  him,  standing 
there  stretching  out  his  hand,  as  he  had  done  that  night 
and  laid  it  on  his  boy's  head  as  if  blessing  him!  Always 
thinking  of  him,  the  lost  one !  Forever  in  dead  despair ! 
Not  daring  to  hope,  only  thinking  in  grief  and  longing, 
yearning,  craving,  not  knowing  that  now,  over  the  sea 
his  boy  was  coming  to  him,  coming,  sailing  on  the  water 
his  eyes  looked  over,  he  standing  as  his  boy  had  stood 
that  dav,  looking  steadfastly  out  far  off! 

I  had  gone  many  trips  in  the  Good  Fellow  down  the 
coast  and  back.  She  generally  carried  lumber  to  South- 
ern ports  from  the  North.  Finally,  having  gone  on  an  ex- 
ploring and  prospecting  voyage,  she  had  been  cast  away 
on  an  uninhabited  island  off  the  coast  of  Lower  Cali- 
fornia. She  had  been  chartered  by  a  party  of  seekers 
for  precious  metals,  mostly  old  CaHfornian  miners,  among 
them  unknown  and  unknowdng  Thomson,  who  had  started 
from  San  Diego  late  in  the  season.  No  lives  were  lost 
in  the  shipwreck. 

After  having  been  on  the  island  nearly  a  month,  all 
provisions  being  gone  and  no  precious  metals  found,  we 
had  been  rescued  bv  a  South-bound  coaster  and  carried 


/  3 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

nearly  as  far  as  Cape  San  Lucas,  where  we  had  met  and 
been  transferred  to  the  mail  steamer  Colima  that  took  us 
to  San  Francisco. 

On  board  the  Colima  was  the  troupe  of  Mexican  chil- 
dren forming  an  operatic  company  under  the  directorship 
and  management  of  the  formerly  quite  celebrated  Mexi- 
can songstress,  Clara  Unda  y  Mozon,  whose  own  children, 
Carmen,  Lopeto,  Guadalupe,  Ramon  and  Benito  formed 
the  nucleus  of  the  company.  Carmen  and  Lopeto  were 
in  every  way  the  unapproached  stars  and  leaders  of  the 
whole.  And  among  them  I  was  on  the  second  day  of  our 
meeting  on  board  the  Colima  enrolled,  having  attached 
myself  to  the  children  from  the  first  moment  I  had  seen 
them  in  such  a  spontaneous,  irresistible  manner  that  I  be- 
came completely,  willingly,  helplessly  absorbed  in  them. 
Naturally  it  had  first  been  ascertained  upon  trial  that  I 
was  very  musical,  very  good  of  voice,  perfect  of  ear, 
while  in  reading  and  understanding  music  and  knowing 
how  to  sing,  I  was,  thanks  to  the  teachings  of  Old  France, 
more  than  the  equal  of  the  other  children,  always  except- 
ing Carmen  and  Lopeto. 

Thus,  dressed  in  a  cast-off  suit  of  Lopeto,  I  came  ashore 
in  San  Francisco  a  member  of  the  Mexican  Infantile 
Opera  Company,  feeling  among  so  many  almost  secure 
from  detection  by  anybody,  and  being  too  happy  in  my 
surroundings,  too  occupied  with  my  new  life  to  feel  more 
than  a  passing  pain  at  parting  from  Captain  Smidkins  of 
the  lost  schooner.  Without  any  legal  hold  on  me,  but 
wishing  me  to  stay  with  him  very  much,  he  counseled  me 
not  to  leave  him,  promising  to  pay  me  wages;  saying  he 
would  make  a  man  of  me  if  I  would  sail  with  him  again; 
and  there  was  another  schooner  ready  for  him.  He  was 
always  good  at  promising. 

But  my  die  was  cast.  To  give  up  the  children's  com- 
pany would  have  been  to  give  up  life  almost.  Always 
fond  of  children  and  always  hungering  for  their  compan- 

76 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ionship,  how  little  had  I  known  of  any  intercourse  with 
any  children,  in  free  equality.  Sometimes  for  months,  for 
years  not  seeing  a  child,  children's  pla;^  was  unknown 
to  me.  Now  it  all  had  come  to  me,  my  mates  all  children 
like  me,  our  work  all  play.  Though  certainly  the  ban  was 
still  on  me. 

A  week  or  thereabouts  after  our  arrival,  at  our  first 
appearance  in  the  old  music-hall  on  Montgomery  street, 
my  father  saw  me. 

He  had  come  solely  to  see  the  children.  He  had 
come  alone.  Cora  he  would  bring  another  time.  And 
he  had  been  charmed,  as  always  all  people  were,  by  the 
marvelous  talent,  as  singers  and  actors,  of  Lopeto  and 
Carmen  and  their  natural  beauty,  grace  and  sweetness, 
so  that  at  first  he  had  hardly  had  senses  for  anybody  or 
anything  else,  till  toward  the  end  of  the  first  act  his  eyes 
suddenly  beheld  his  boy. 

He  did  not  move.  His  eyes  encountered  the  boy's. 
He  saw  him  start.  In  a  moment  he  was  hidden  behind 
the  other  children. 

At  once  it  came  to  my  father  like  a  revelation  :  Richard ! 
Their  likeness !  It  was  the  resemblance  to  his  half-brother 
that  the  boy  had  seen  in  him.  And  all  doubts  and  sus- 
picions ever  held,  became  realities.  Richard  had  been  the 
one  to  get  the  boy  away  from  the  wharf.  How  had  he 
done  it,  what  treatment  had  he  subjected  the  child  to?  It 
must  have  been  cruel  or  it  could  not  have  been  Richard. 
And  the  boy,  seeing  the  likeness,  shrank  from  him  in 
(iread.  It  was  the  proof  that  it  was  the  boy.  Not  that  he 
reeded  any  proof.  He  had  known  him  at  the  first  glance. 
He  knew  him  every  part :  his  figure,  his  walk,  his  gestures, 
sll  were  the  same,  all  as  natural  as  ever.  Actor  he  was 
none,  and  he  wore  like  all  the  children  no  paint.  The 
same  clean  look  was  about  him.  The  eyes,  his  mother's 
eyes!  He  did  not  even  seem  much  grown,  but  in  every- 
thiig  just  like  the  little  boy  he  had  left  on  the  old  wharf 

77 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

m   the   moonlight   night    for   a    few    days,   the   days   now- 
grown  to  years. 

1  think  I  can  follow  my  dear  father  in  my  mind,  bat- 
tling with  his  emotion,  not  to  let  it  overcome  the  consid- 
eration dne  the  boy,  who  must  always  remain  the  first 
object  of  tenderest  thought  fulness,  schooling  himself  not 
to  let  his  joy  get  the  best  of  him,  and  to  take  care  not 
to  come  too  suddenly  and  brusquely  upon  him,  not  to  give 
him  more  fright  than  could  possibly  he  helped. 

Nor  should  he  expect  Ihat  the  boy  would  recognize  him 
lit  first,  nor  feel  sore  if  he  did  not  remember  him  at  all, 
nor  show  it,  if  it  did  hurt,  as  it  might.  Naturally  after 
the  years  of  separation  and  the  probably  numerous, 
rough  experiences  gone  through,  the  boy  at  best  could 
remember  him  but  indistinctly ;  how  much  less  then  with 
trie  likeness  of  Richard  obliterating  and  supplanting  in 
him  the  original.  He  must  let  the  boy  see  him  a  few 
times,  without  his  apparently  seeing  or  noticing  the  boy, 
so  as  to  let  him  perceive  the  difference  and  find  out  by 
himself  that  my  father  was  not  the  man  he  resembled. 
The  voice  might  tell  and  the  gray  hair.  Though  the  gray 
hair  might  be  more  cause  for  not  recognizing  him.  Or 
if  all  care  would  not  avail  to  quickly  free  him  from  alarm 
and  apprehension,  Mahon  must  be  called  in  and  Mr. 
Tem  Oldock! 

All  this  in  the  few  seconds  till  the  curtain  had  fallen  and 
he  had  gone  out  into  the  lobby,  where  before,  on  enter- 
ing, he  had  noticed  in  and  about  the  ticket-office  some 
people  that  looked  as  if  they  might  belong  to  the  manage- 
ment of  the  company.  Among  them  he  now  saw  Don 
Lope,  the  husband  of  our  directress,  the  father  of  Lopeto 
and  the  others,  who  must  be  one  of  the  principal  mana- 
gers, he  was  sure.  Hesitate,  of  course  he  must  as  he 
always  did,  or  pause,  at  least  to  look  about  him,  take  his 
bearings,  note  who  was  the  likeliest  man  to  address.  Then 
he  accosted  Don  Lope,  intn^lucing  himself,  offering  his 

78 


CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

services,  if  such  be  needed  and  mentioning  his  former  resi- 
dence in  Mexico,  where  he  had  as  he  but  just  remembered, 
often  been  dehghted  by  the  singing  of  a  lady,  at  that  time 
one  of  the  principal  ornaments  of  the  Mexican  stage  and 
by  the  name  that  stood  at  the  head  of  this  children's  opera- 
company.  It  was  also  borne  by  several  of  the  children 
themselves,  two  of  whom  were  the  most  wonderful  per- 
formers for  their  age,  he  had  ever  met. 

There  was  a  question  of  an  exchange  or  draft  wherein 
such  services  as  my  father  offered  were  very  acceptable ; 
but  even  without  that,  access  behind  the  scenes  with  us 
was  so  easily  obtained,  it  could  be  had  by  such  as  my 
father  at  all  times  for  the  asking.  Before  he  had  rightly 
prepared  himself,  he  was  ushered  onto  the  stage  and  in- 
troduced to  our  lady  Una  y  Mozon,  who  received  him  with 
all  her  graciousness  and  kept  him  near  her,  talking  to  him 
while  directing  everything. 

The  children  were  all  around  him  in  the  dim  light,  often 
touching  him  as  they  moved.  They  were  grouping  them- 
selves on  the  stage.  They  seemed  to  be  extremely  well 
drilled.  Still,  all  was  confusion  to  him.  The  second  act 
was  about  to  begin,  or  the  third.  It  had  begun.  The  chil- 
dren were  all  singing.  Then,  as  the  play  went,  the  greater 
part  of  them  came  in  a  rush  to  where  he  was  standing  in 
the  wings,  the  first  one  being  crowded  along  by  the 
others.  As  one  came  with  a  rush  against  him,  he  held  out 
his  hand  to  stop  it,  so  he  should  not  fall.  And  when  lie 
looked  it  was  his  boy. 

For  his  life  he  could  not  help  pressing  him  to  his  breast 
just  one  moment,  crying  in  a  w^hisper:  "Don't  be  afraid! 
Don't  be  afraid !"  But  he  did  not  hold  him.  He  opened 
his  arms  immediately  to  let  him  go.  He  did  not  even  let 
Ins  eyes  follow  him.  He  had  seen  the  first  fright  in  the 
face  and  then  the  change.  How  the  lips  grew  red  again ! 
How  the  eyes  turned  to  his  with  an  expression  of  bound- 
less  gratitude,   a   smile   of  unspeakable   relief   gradually 

79 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

lighting  up  the  whole  face!  How  well  he  remembered 
the  first  smiling  of  the  solemn  little  face !  But  yet  he  had 
seen  no  recognition. 

After  some  time  he  saw  him  again.  And  with  a  feeling 
of  perhaps  as  great  relief  and  thankfulness  as  before  he 
had  seen  into  the  boy's  eyes,  he  now  noticed  that  the  fright 
was  all  gone.  At  least  it  seemed  to  have  left  him,  but 
he  could  not  surely  tell,  in  the  turmoil  of  the  perform- 
ance. But  he  would  not  do  anything  to  approach  the  boy. 
When  the  play  was  over  he  received  an  invitation  to  sup 
with  the  troupe  at  their  hotel.  That  he  accepted.  After 
supper  lie  was  made  specially  acquainted  with  some  of 
the  principal  performers  among  the  children.  Carmen 
and  Lopeto  naturally  being  the  first.  He  also  managed 
to  learn  how  his  boy  had  been  picked  up  and  had  become 
a  member  of  the  company.  After  that,  seeing  his  boy  and 
Lopeto  march  off  to  bed  together  with  the  others,  he  took 
his  leave,  to  pass  the  night  till  dawn  in  walking  the  streets 
round  the  block  in  which  stood  the  building,  where  in 
some  one  of  the  rooms  his  boy  was  sleeping. 

Lopeto  had  shown  quite  a  liking  for  his  boy.  It 
pleased  him  to  think  of  it.  Yet  something  was  in  it  that 
pained  him.  But  he  liked  Lopeto  for  it.  And  he  plainly 
saw  the  chance,  how,  without  showing  his  real  object, 
to  get  near  and  grow  familiar  with  his  boy  by  occupying 
himself  with  Lopeto,  which  could  in  no  way  seem  strange, 
Lopeto  being  courted  by  all.  And  there  was  in  my  father 
much  planning  and  nervous  considering,  what  and  how 
best  to  do,  with  no  result  but  the  conception  that  Lopeto 
might  be  made  a  companion  to  his  boy,  for  a  time. 

If  my  father  had  not  gone  to  any  performance  by  our 
troupe,  it  would  have  been  Jim,  the  bricklayer,  again  to 
bring  him  news  of  his  boy.  Jim  had  gone  to  see  the  chil- 
dren at  their  second  or  third  appearance  and  thinking 
he  saw  a  resemblance  in  the  boy,  had  waited  for  him  the 
next  morning  at  the  stage  entrance  after  rehearsal,  when 

80 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

lie  fully  recognized  him.  Jim  spoke  to  him  and  quite 
surprised  him  into  telling  how  he  came  to  be  amongst 
these  ^.lexican  children,  and  then  hurried  to  inform  my 
father  of  his  discovery,  only  to  find  him  already  possessed 
of  the  facts,  and  in  accord  with  the  open  hospitality  and 
graceful  ease  of  Mexican  custom,  already  on  intimate 
tooting  with  all  the  members  of  the  troupe.  That  is,  of 
course,  as  intimate  as  my  father's  natural  disposition 
would  allow  him  to  be. 

One  point  was  through  Jim's  visit  brought  to  my 
father's  mind,  the  birthmark.  Jim  spoke  of  it,  and  this 
occasioned  my  father  to  make  an  opportunity  to  see  it. 
The  boy  wearing  old  clothes  of  Lopeto's  too  large  for  him 
and  rather  worn,  while  the  other  boys  were  all  dressed 
alike  and  in  new  suits,  plain,  but  with  just  a  little  pecu- 
liarity of  cut  and  touch  of  color  to  make  them  look 
somewhat  like  uniforms,  gave  my  father  the  chance  of 
offering  to  take  him  to  his  tailor  and  have  a  new  suit 
uniform  like  the  rest  made  for  him,  doing,  I  am  sure, 
at  the  same  time  what  he  well  knew  made  his  boy's  heart 
jump  with  delight.  He  took  Lopeto  and  a  couple  more 
of  the  boys  along  to  serve  as  patterns,  and  to  take  away 
any  feeling  of  distrust  and  insecurity  the  boy  might  have 
in  going  alone  with  him,  considering  what  might  have 
been  his  experiences  with  Richard.  After  being  through 
with  the  tailor  he  took  them  all  to  ch'iterent  stores,  where 
he  bought  some  little  present  for  each.  And  for  his 
bov.  ?t  a  furnisher's,  he  bought  some  underwear  the 
bov  badly  needed,  which  to  try  on,  superfluously  to 
be  sure,  he  made  liim  strip  in  the  dressing  room  of  the 
establishment,  when  he  saw  the  birthmark.  And  al- 
though before  he  had  thought  little  of  it,  as  if  perhaps 
it  might  not  be  there  an_d  it  made  no  difference  if  it  were 
not,  mark  or  no  mark,  the  boy  was  his,  yet  when  he  did 
see  it,  he  became  possessed  of  quite  a  strong  feeling  on 
that  point,  as  if  he  had  a  right  now  to  the  boy  he  had  not 

8i 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

had  before,  and  as  though  he  must  show  his  own  birth- 
mark.    Had  he  but  done  it ! 

The  case  lay  similarly  to  what  it  had  that  time  at  the 
old  wharf.  Yet,  no!  It  was  altogether  different.  The 
only  similarity  was  ,that  he  was  as  strange  to  the  boy 
now  as  he  had  been  on  that  Sunday  he  first  saw  him, 
and  lie  had  to  find  his  way  into  the  boy's  life  again,  step 
by  step  as  before.  And  even  this  task  as  well  as  every- 
thing else  was  not  what  it  had  been  then. 

At  that  time  the  boy  had  been  contented  in  his  sur- 
roundings, but  it  had  been  the  contentment  of  ignorance, 
inexperience.  His  life  had  been,  yes!  independent  and 
useful  through  work  faithfully  performed  that  lay  well 
within  his  ability.  But  it  had  been  work  to  lead  to  nothing 
but  the  lowest  level  of  unskilled  labor.  Now  he  was  not 
only  contented  but  joyfully  happy,  standing  on  the  first 
rung  of  a  ladder,  up  which  by  his  talent,  he  might  climb 
to  the  sunniest  heights  of  life.  The  dift'erent  wants  of 
the  child  had  shown  themselves  in  those  earlier  days  soon 
enough  and  as  plain  as  at  this  later  period  to  be  noted 
and  cared  for.  His  musical  talent  had  taken  clear  shape 
at  the  first  touch  of  a  simple,  unfamiliar  instrument, 
pointing  out  the  way  he  should  go,  the  profession  that 
should  be  his  life's  work. 

His  whole  soul  had  responded  to  the  father's  in  every 
vibration  from  their  first  meeting.  Had  the  father  at 
that  time  been  independent  in  his  home-life,  he  could, 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  bond  of  nature  between 
them,  to  insure  the  child's  future  happiness  have  taken 
him  to  be  his  own.  Now  the  desertion  by  his  wife  had 
given  him  that  independence  in  his  home,  now  he  knew, 
besides,  that  the  boy  was  his  own  child,  and  now  he  must 
not  take  him,  must  let  him  be.  He  had  suspected  some- 
thing like  it  the  very  first  night :  he  saw  it  clearer  every 
new  day  with  pain  tightening  on  his  breast. 

At  the  old  wharf  he  had  almost  from  the  first  hour 

82 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

of  their  acquaintance  become  the  boy's  very  centre  of 
life.  He  had  felt  it  to  be  so,  he  had  known  it.  Now  the 
boy  was  happy  in  a  manifold  happiness  in  which  he  had 
no  part,  no  share :  happy  in  the  execution  of  his  beloved 
music,  the  daily  practicitig  of  it.  learning  more  of  it. 
happy  in  the  instruction  by  his  teachers,  their  kindly 
praise;  happy  and  happier  every  day  in  the  close  fellow- 
ship of  all  the  dear  sand-colored  little  ones,  the  affection 
of  Lopeto,  the  daintily  acted  motherliness  of  sweet 
little  Carmen.  If  he  took  him  away  from  all  this  now, 
might  he  not  destroy  his  whole  life?  And  if  the  boy  was 
really  as  musical  as  everybody  proclaimed  him,  as  he 
himself  believed  him  to  be,  was  it  not  then  his  plain  duty 
to  aid  him  on  his  way?  However  to  do  that  he  need  not 
let  him  go.  And  how  could  he  let  him  go?  He  must 
take  him  to  himself  to  be  his  son. 

He  arrived  at  a  plan  that  in  reality  was  but  old  dreams, 
old  wishes,  old,  old  castles  of  air.  He  would  take  Cora  to 
Europe,  where  any  attempt  of  the  mother  to  get  posses- 
sion of  her  would  stand  much  less  chance  of  being  success- 
ful than  in  the  United  States.  He  would  go  to  Italy  with 
Cora  and  Harry ;  to  Tuscany,  his  old  home,  to  live  there. 
And  he  would  take  the  boy  there.  And  Lopeto  was  to 
be  taken  along.  They  were  all  to  live  there  together. 
The  musical  education  of  the  boy  was  to  be  one  principal 
object  of  the  undertaking :  and  Lopeto  was  for  some  years 
to  be  the  close,  brotherly  companion  to  his  boy,  to  thus 
bridge  over  the  separation  from  the  beloved  little  troupe. 
And  he  would  try  the  genuine  qualifications  of  his  boy  for 
a  musical  career.  His  boy  should  have  all  that  fondest 
father's  love  could  give.  He  should  know  too  a  father's 
love.  He  would  tell  him  all  and  would  fully  acknowledge 
him.  But  not  right  off.  He  wished  to  gain  his  love  first, 
as  he  had  won  the  little  fellow's  heart  years  ago.  At 
least  he  wished  to  try. 

The  parents  of  Lopeto  and  Carmen  desired  most  earn- 

83 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

estly  to  give  them  a  thorough  musical  education.  The  ob- 
ject of  all  this  Infantile  Opera  business  had  been  but  to 
make  money  enough  to  defray  the  expenses  of  such  an 
education.  It  soon  became  evident  that  the  profits  of 
the  undertaking  v/ould  be  much  less  than  they  had  cal- 
culated, and  it  only  made  the  parents  more  anxious  about 
it.  so  that  my  father's  hinting  at  an  offer  to  take  the 
education  of  Lopeto  on  himself  was  met  with  willingness 
enough.  But  nothing  was  more  than  hinted  at ;  nor  did 
my  father  express  more  than  a  sort  of  idea  that  it  might 
be  well  to  have  some  other  one  of  the  boys  come  with 
Lopeto  for  a  companion,  perhaps  me,  since  we  seemed  to 
be  such  good  friends.  The  two  of  us  were  to  be  educated 
together.  It  was  to  be  definitely  arranged  in  Boston, 
where  the  troupe  were  going  from   San  P'^rancisco. 

Meanwhile  my  father  gave  himself  up  to  the  advance- 
ment of  the  interest  and  comfort  of  the  whole  troupe  and 
especially  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  society  of  all  the  chil- 
dren and  the  constant  intercourse  with  them,  without  sing- 
ling out  his  boy  more  than  he  could  help,  or  appearing 
more  solicitous  about  him  than  about  any  of  the  others. 
When  the  first  season  of  several  weeks'  duration  in  San 
Francisco  was  over,  the  troupe  on  his  invitation  went 
to  San  Jose  for  a  week,  where  they  performed.  One 
night  they  visited  his  ranch  and  had  what  might  be  called  a 
vacation  of  his  arranging.  After  that  they  returned  to 
San  Francisco  for  anotlier  shorter  season  where  my 
father  left  them  and  started  with  Cora  and  Harry  for 
Boston,  four,  five  days  ahead  of  the  troupe. 

Delays  on  the  road  kept  the  troupe  from  reaching  Bos- 
ton till  several  weeks  after  the  time  appointed  with  my 
father.  When  at  last  they  did  arrive,  he  saw  that  his  boy 
was  not  amongst  them  and  learned  like  one  stunned  that 
the  last  night  in  San  Francisco,  during  the  performance, 
v/hich  was  a  sort  of  concert,  some  one  in  the  audience 
had  come  forward,  climbed  on  to  the  stage,  taken  hold 

84 


CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

of  the  boy.  claiming  him  as  his  own  and  had  carried  him 
off,  the  boy  not  making  the  least  resistance. 

Letters  and  telegrams  had  passed  between  my  father 
and  the  manager  of  the  troupe  while  he  was  waiting  for 
them,  but  no  mention  had  ever  been  made  of  this  busi- 
ness because,  I  suppose,  nobody  kne^^•  or  thought  that  my 
father  took  any  special  interest  in  this  boy,  who  after 
all  had  been  but  an  outsider  among  them.  And,  as  it 
happened  no  newspaper's  notice  had  been  taken  of  this 
incident,  or  if  it  had,  none  had  come  to  my  father's  eyes. 

What  could  it  mean?  Richard  was  away  on  some 
scheming,  mining  business  in  Central  America,  not  to  re- 
turn for  months  or  even  years,  or  my  father  would  not 
have  risked  to  leave  the  boy.  Jim,  the  bricklayer,  as 
far  as  my  father  knew,  was  the  only  one  knowing  about 
the  boy.  There  came,  as  must  come  in  connection  with 
me,  the  thought  of  :\Ir.  Tem  Oldock.  To  him  my  father 
telegraphed  and  wrote.  Cora  fell  ill,  an.d  it  must  have 
been  her  protracted  illness  which  kept  my  father  from 
going  back  to  San  Francisco.  In  a  few  weeks  he  re- 
ceived the  news  that  the  boy  had  been  found  and  was  safe 
in  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  house. 

The  first  sight  of  my  father  had  acted  on  me  just 
about  as  he  reasoned.  The  resemblance  to  Richard  "had 
started  the  old  terrors  in  my  mind,  only  that  I  had 
an  almost  instant  doubt  of  his  being  the  person.  If  that 
had  not  been  I  should  have  set  about  making  my  escape 
without  delay.  Xew  uncertainty  came  when,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  next  act,  I  saw  that  he  had  left  his  seat 
and  was  now^here  to  be  seen.  And  real  fright  seized  me 
when  I  found  myself  in  his  arms.  But  as  soon  as  I 
came  to  really  feel  his  embrace,  even  before  I  heard  his 
voice,  I  knew  it  was  a  different  man,  only  resembling  the 
other. 

Still  the  resemblance  was  enough  to  hold  me  captive  so 
that  I  could  not  disconnect  my  father  with  the  memory  of 

85 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Richard.  I  am  certain  1  should  have  come  to  it,  in  spite 
of  the  obscuring  recollection  of  the  other  one,  if  only  my 
father  had  more  occupied  himself  with  me,  and  if  at  his 
country-seat  on  his  ranch  I  had  not  seen  Cora. 

We  were  being   famously  entertained  there,  and  al- 
though at  that  time   I   was  altogether  too   fully  taken 
up  with  my  happy  state  to  notice  much  that  was  not 
music  or  Mexican  children,  still  the  trees  and  hills  and 
air  were  to  me  like  greetings  from  the  country  I  loved, 
too.     I  was,  soon  after  our  arrival  at  the  ranch,  busily 
engaged  leading  some  of  the  children  round  the  place,  to 
show,  tell  and  explain  all  I  knew  of  country-life,  when  we 
came  to  a  spot  behind  some  shrubbery  where  we  found 
sitting  on  the  ground  in  the  road,  a  child,  certainly  not 
three  years  old,  that  was  crippled.     It  was  awfully  shy 
too.     When  Carmen  in  her  little-girl's  motherliness  went 
to  caress  it,  the  little  thing  looked  so  pitiable  that  she 
stopped  and  told  me  to  go  to  it  and  speak  to  it  in  English. 
But  no  kindly  talking  or  coaxing  could  elicit  a  word  or 
make   it   raise   its  bowed-down   head.     It   had   only   one 
whole  leg.     The  other  leg  was  off  just  below  the  knee. 
We  could  not  understand  how  it  could  walk  at  all  as  it 
had  no  crutch.     Then  one  of  our  boys  discovered  in  the 
branches  of  a  pepper-tree  close  by,  a  stick  with  a  brass 
ferrule  which  he  shook  down  and  which  proved  to  fit  into 
the  capping  of  the  little  child's   leg-stump.      Somebody 
must  have  unscrewed  it  and  thrown  it  up  into  the  tree. 

I  had  just  screwed  it  into  its  place  and  was  backing 
away  from  the  little  thing,  not  to  embarrass  it  any  more, 
when,  raising  my  eyes,  before  me  in  the  walk,  slowly 
approaching  round  the  shrubbery,  I  saw  Cora. 

She  was  much  changed,  yet  I  instantly  knew  her.  And 
she  recognized  me,  I  saw,  as  well  as  that  she  saw,  I  had 
recognized  her.  Into  her  pale  eyes  came  that  look  of 
hate  and  cruelty,   I  had  seen  in  them,  that  time  in  the 

86 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 
room  where  that  man  whom  she  called  papa  had  brought 


me. 


The  terrors  were  within  arm's  length  of  me  again. 
As  at  Fountain  Head,  I  had  now  the  feeling  as  though 
that  man  must  be  lurking  nearby,  anywhere,  everywhere 
ready  to  seize  and  destroy  me.     This,  his  girl  would  tell 
him  of  my  being  here,  and  he  would  come.     That  last 
night  in  San  Jose  my  fire-dream  visited  me  again  the  first 
time  in  a  long  while.     The  night  after  in  San  Francisco 
it  came  again.     When  a  couple  of  days  later  my  father 
bade  us  good-by  to  go  to  Boston  ahead  of  us,  bringing 
Cora  to  say  good-by  too,  and  making  her  shake  hands  with 
me  amongst  the  others,  I  seemed  to  feel  in  the  touch  of 
her  fingers  her  promise  of  hate  to  inform  him,  that  strange 
man,  her  papa  of  my  whereabouts.     And  when  on  our 
last  night  in  San  Francisco  toward  the  end  of  the  per- 
formance there  was  some  disturbance  in  the  audience, 
and  a  man  came  climbing  onto  the  stage,  caught  me  up, 
jumped  dow^n  again  and  walked  up  the  aisle  and  out  of 
the  hall,  carrying  me  all  the  way  into  the  street,  up  to  a 
close  carriage,  into  which  he  thrust  me,  coming  in  after 
me,  and  rode  off  with  me,  I  could  not  say  one  word  nor 
do  one  thing.     This  was  the   fulfilment.     I  was  in  the 
clutches  of  my  destroyer.     I  was  lost. 

I  had  had  to  siag  that  night  for  the  first  time  a  part 
alone,  a  small  song' of  not  more  than  three  verses  with  a 
chorus,  receiving  great  applause  at  each  verse  and  having 
to  repeat  the  last  verse  twice,  when  near  the  last  ending 
I  was  interrupted.  I  did  not  know  what  it  was,  but  it 
made  my  heart  sink.    A  noise  of  some  one  calling!    And 

then  it  came. 

Long  since  the  whole  has  become  like  a  picture  to  me : 
the  hot,  crowded,  not  very  well  lighted  house,  our  whole 
company  on  the  stage  in  everyday  uniform  dress  (for  it 
was  only  a  kind  of  concert  we  gave,  as  we  were  gomg  to 
leave  the  next  morning  by  the  earliest  train)  ;  then  the 

87 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

man  coming  in  the  flare  of  the  footHghts  up  over  the 
edge  of  the  stage,  straight  toward  me,  lifting  me  up  and 
carrying  me  off ;  the  strange-looking  faces  of  all  the  little 
company,  the  grown-np  people  running  out  from  the 
wings,  all  looking  astonished,  scared,  the  flushed  faces  of 
the  audience,  eager,  some  laughing,  many  rising,  pressing 
forward!  But  not  to  help!  None  to  interfere!  Not 
one  to  save  me  I 

Thomson  had  been  one  of  the  prospecting  miners  on 
board  the  Good  Fellow.  He  had  been  cast  away  with 
us  on  the  island  and  had  come  back  with  us  to  San 
Francisco.  But  all  this  time  nothing  had  ever  occurred 
to  make  him  suspect  my  identity,  while  I  of  course  knew 
nothing  whatever  of  him.  We  had  been  a  good  deal 
in  close  company  too,  as  I  slept  in  the  same  tent  with 
him  for  a  week  or  two  on  the  island.  However  into 
closer  acquaintance  we  had  not  been  brought.  And  he 
was  not  a  man  to  care  for  children,  nor  at  all  to  take  to 
boys.  Arrived  in  San  Francisco  he  had  in  his  desultory 
w.'iv  taken  u])  his  periodical  inquiries  about  me,  and  had 
at  last  come  across  Jim,  from  whom  he  had  learned,  to 
his  dead  amazement,  that  the  ship's  boy  on  the  schooner 
on  which  he  had  sailed  and  been  wrecked,  was  the  boy 
for  whom  he  had  been  in  search  so  long.  He  would 
hardly  believe  it  at  all,  for  he  was  the  kind  of  man  to 
think  that  we  must  have  recognized  each  other.  And 
I  don't  know  but  what  in  his  heart  he  put  it  down  as 
something  showing  again  my  inborn  perverseness  and 
falseness,  that  I  had  not  made  myself  known  to  him. 
And  now  I  belonged  to  a  theatrical  company!  That 
would  be  my  ruin.  As  Richard  was  not  there,  he  must 
himself  do  what  was  right  and  save  me.  What  Jim 
told  him  about  my  father  he  simply  disregarded  after 
his  manner  of  mental  action.  Richard  had  always  been 
my  father,  how  could  anybody  else  be  my  father? 

Thomson  went  to  see  us  perform,  but  failed  to  recog- 

88 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALAXUS 

nize  me  in  niy  stage-dress.  He  watched  for  me  on  the 
street  near  the  stage-door  the  next  time  we  went  in  to 
rehearsal.  Then  he  recognized  me  enough  to  know  me 
again  for  the  boy  aboard  the  Good  Fellow.  By  that 
time  he  was  ready  to  act.  He  had  no  time  to  spare, 
for  the  day  of  our  last  performance  had  come.  He  had 
raised  some  money  and  rented  a  partly  furnished, 
isolated,  little  cottage  on  Russian  hill.  And  he  hired 
a  cab.  Then  he  went  to  the  music-hall,  took  a  con- 
venient seat  as  soon  as  the  doors  were  open  and  waited 
till  near  the  end  of  our  performance,  till  I  had  finished 
my  song  and  the  called-for  repetition  within  a  few  words, 
when  rising  he  called  out  something  to  the  eflfect  that 
that  was  the  boy  he  had  lost  years  ago,  and  came  and 
carried  me  ofif. 

I  had  not  recognized  him  in  the  least.  He  had  shaved 
off  his  beard,  or  done  something  like  that.  It  would 
i-ave  made  no  difference  if  I  had.  I  was  waiting  in 
deadly  suspence  for  the  appearance  of  the  other  man.  I 
could  not  speak.  I  thought  of  everything  and  at  the  same 
time  all  thoughts  ran  into  the  one :  where  was  the  other 
man?  h^or  this  one,  of  course,  was  o.ily  sent  to  fetch  me. 
Where  was  tlie  other?  The  strange  man?  When  we 
came  to  the  cab,  I  thought  lie  must  be  in  there.  When 
Vv-e  had  driven,  away,  quickly  at  first,  slower  uphill  till  at 
last  we  stopped,  and  the  cab  door  was  opened,  I  felt  sure 
of  his  standing  there,  ready  to  receive  me.  The  worst 
was  goin.g  into  the  cottage,  where  now  certainly  he  must 
be,  and  where  I  passed  a  night  of  terrors  in  the  dark,  at 
every  little  noise  imagining  that  he  was  coming,  imagining 
liim  to  be  in  the  room  with  me.  hearing  his  stealthy  step, 
his  subdued  breathing,  his  groping  his  way  along  the  walls 
to  me. 

Not  till  the  day  after,  did  I  recognize  Thomson  as 
one  of  the  miners  who  had  sailed  as  passanger  on  the 
Good  Fellovv.  and  then  it  made  the  case  but  more  mys- 

8g 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

terious.  Only  gradually  during  the  following  week  could 
I  come  to  a  sort  of  understanding  of  his  confused,  end- 
lessly rambling  talk. 

The  man  he  spoke  of  as  my  father  and  whom,  one 
moment,  he  called  a  fiend,  recounting  how  he  had  treated 
my  mother,  and  the  next  moment  professed  it  his  inten- 
tion, his  duty  to  deliver  me  up  to  as  soon  as  he  was 
returned  from  somewhere,  that  was  that  strange  man 
who  had  stolen  me  from  our  old  wharf.  Of  that  I  was 
reasonably  sure.  It  could  be  no  other.  But  he  was  not 
here  at  present.  Thomson  was  not  even  in  communica- 
tion with  him.  Thomson  had  no  authority  to  interfere, 
to  act  at  all,  even  if  that  man  was  my  father,  which  in  my 
innermost  thoughts  I  fully  believed  to  be  the  truth. 

An  indescribable  fury  took  possession  of  me,  as  little 
by  little  it  became  clear  to  me  that  I  had  fooled  myself 
and  been  fooled.  Fooled  by  a  fool!  Robbed  by  a 
jackass  of  my  happiness! 

If  I  had  but  resisted!  If  I  had  but  fought  back!  I 
might  have  fought  myself  clear  and  our  managers  might 
then  have  stood  by  me  and  saved  me.  For  Thomson 
could  not  have  made  good  any  claim,  could  not  have 
proved  any  title  so  to  speak.  Perhaps  our  managers 
would  have  given  me  up  to  him  without  any  demur,  to 
avoid  any  trouble,  and  I  being  but  an  outsider,  who 
had  come  to  them  like  a  stray  dog.  But  they  might  not. 
If  I  only  had  broken  away  from  him  and  run,  I  might 
have  hidden  and  disguised  myself  and  gotten  away  with 
the  rest.  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  succeeded,  but  I 
miffht.  There  had  been  the  chances.  Now  it  was  too 
late.  Even  if  I  escaped  now,  how  could  I  make  it  pos- 
sible to  rejoin  our  company?  Still  escape  I  must.  And 
1  should  easily  enough  have  got  away  from  Thomson, 
had  not  the  illness  laid  me  low,  w^iich  ended  with  attack- 
ing my  throat  and  destroying  my  voice  so  that  I  have 
never  been  able  to  sing  since. 

90 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

At  the  worst  of  the  illness  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  found  me. 
He  came  with  Mahon  and  Jim.  My  father  had  directed 
him  to  Jim,  and  through  Jim  my  spiriting  away  was 
speedily  brought  home  to  Thomson,  who  was  located 
without  much  trouble  by  Mr.  Tem  Oldock.  They  came 
to  my  bed-side,  and  oh !  the  change  of  feeling  at  hear- 
ing their  voices!  New  hope!  New  life!  Oh,  the  bless- 
ings of  joy!  As  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  bent  over  me  he  held 
out  his  hand  to  me,  pointing  at  the  scar,  the  mark  of 
my  teeth,  telling  me  not  to  cry,  that  he  had  come  to  take 
care  of  me,  that  I  had  good  friends  who  would  do  every- 
thing for  me,  and  by  and  by  I  should  go  to  Europe  with 
]\Iahon. 

Jim  was  very  downcast  at  seeing  me  so  low,  for  which 
he  greatly  blamed  himself.  But  he  did  not  speak  about 
nor  mention  my  father  any  more  than  Mr.  Tem  Oldock 
did. 

Mahon,  I  think,  I  should  have  known  anywhere,  big- 
grown  as  he  was  and  with  moustache  sprouting.  But 
he  did  not  remember  me  in  the  least.  Yet  when  I  was 
a  little  better,  he  would  come  into  my  room  in  his  father's 
house,  being  home  during  school-vacation,  and  tease  me, 
exactly  the  way  of  old,  when  T  was  with  Xello  and  Nick 
at  the  wharf. 

He  was  at  a  boarding  school,  a  sort  of  private  college 
in  the  city,  and  when  the  new  term  began,  I  was  sent 
to  the  same  college.  And  yet  another  year  or  nearly 
so  of  separation  from  me  my  father  had  to  endure ;  sep- 
aration certainly  no  longer  in  ignorance  of  my  being  and 
doing,  but  no  less  m  pain  of  secret  longing. 

What  all  the  reasons  were  why  he  did  not  have  me  sent 
on  as  soon  as  I  was  well  enough  to  travel,  or  later,  or 
why  he  did  not  return  to  California  sooner,  if  he  found 
his  residing  abroad  did  not  answer  the  purposes  of  his 
life,  or  why  he  did  not,  at  least,  enter  into  some  sort  of 
communication   with   me,   all  this   I   shall   never   know. 

91 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Cora's  illness  must  have  been  one  reason.  It  had  de- 
veloped into  something  requiring,  according  to  the 
opinion  and  advice  of  well  known  physicians,  the  speedy 
consultation  of  noted,  European  specialists.  As  soon  as 
my  father  had  received  the  news  of  my  being  safely 
housed  at  Mr.  Teni  Oldock's,  he  sailed  with  Cora  and 
Harry  for  Europe. 

The  project  about  Lopeto  had  with  the  other  plans 
been  abandoned.  The  Mexican  children's  company  had 
utterly  failed  in  Boston  and  other  places  and  had  been 
disbanded,  most  of  the  people  returning  home  by  aid  of 
my  father.  Lopeto,  alone  of  all,  obtained  an  engagement 
to  sing  at  some  theatre  somewhere.  My  father  had  re- 
peated or  more  explicitly  formulated  his  offer  to  take  the 
gifted  boy  to  Europe  for  his  general  and  musical  educa- 
tion, and  I  am  sure  he  must  at  that  time  yet  have  had 
it  in  his  mind  that  I  should  follow  him.  But  Lopeto's 
present  earnings  were,  I  dare  say,  of  too  great  a  neces- 
sity to  the  parents  for  them  to  entertain  the  proposal. 

Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  plan  of  sending  Mahon  abroad  to 
finish  his  education  had  revived  about  this  time,  probably 
under  the  influence  of  some  plan  of  my  father's  regarding 
me,  communicated  to  Mr.  Tem  Oldock,  though  never  car- 
ried out.  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  now  proposed  to  take  Mahon 
to  Europe  himself,  and  I  was  to  go  along.  At  least 
he  spoke  of  taking  me  with  Mahon  to  Europe.  But 
business  considerations  made  him  postpone  the  trip  from 
time  to  time,  till  my  father,  Cora  presumably  being 
cured,  was  on  his  way,  without  further  delays  now,  back 
to  California,  where  he  arrived  at  the  time  Mr.  Tem 
Oldock  was  at  last  about  fully  ready  to  leave.  My  father 
immediately  came  to  our  college  with  Mr.  Tem  Oldock, 
ostensibly  brought  by  that  gentleman,  to  witness,  as  an 
old  friend  of  the  family,  Mahon's  graduation,  and  as 
though  by  chance  to  meet  me,  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  and 
Mahon's  young  protegee,  and  casually  invite  Mahon,  and 

92 


CHROXICLES  OF  MAXUEL  AEAXUS 

me  as  his  familiar,  to  pay  him  a  visit  at  his  country  seat 
for  the  time  of  a  week  and  more,  remaining  till  Mahon 
should  leave  with  his  father  on  their  European  travels. 
Thus  he  veiled  his  real  object  to  bring  me  unknowing  into 
his  house,  there  to  keep  me  even  if  not  yet  proclaiming 
himself  mv  father,  for  me  to  grow  gradually,  naturally 
into  my  place  of  son. 

So  the  day  had  dawned  for  my  father  to  receive  his 
first-born  into  his  house,  to  take  him  to  his  heart,  not  to 
part  from  him  till  death  should  close  his  eyes. 
One  last,  short  year  of  happiness  of  all  his  life! 
To  have  his  own!  And  the  surpassingly  sweet  ex- 
perience of  witnessing,  while  he  was  winning  anew  the 
young  heart,  himself  becoming  gradually  recognized,  re- 
discovered, as  it  were,  as  the  one  to  whom  that  heart  had 
already,  years  ago,  belonged!  What  delight  to  find  the 
boy  every  day  more  what  he  liked  and  wanted.  The  boy, 
still  not  knowing  that  it  was  his  father,  every  hour  to 
learn  to  love  him  more  and  more  un.til  never  did  child 
love  father  more  fondly! 

I  think  my  father  came  to  our  school  fully  prepared 
to  be  recognized  by  me  as  the  gentleman-friend  of  our 
opera  company,  the  friend  of  Lopeto,  as  we  used  to  call 
him.  And  if  he  did  so,  which  I  think  most  likely,  and 
that  he  pleased  himself  with  many  fond  notions  of  this 
recognition,  on  the  other  hand  I  am  quite  sure,  when  he 
found  he  was  not  recognized,  he  immediately,  after  his 
modest  fashion,  had  plenty  excuses  ready  for  me  and 
explanations  why  he  was  not  remembered,  blaming  him.- 
self  for  having  been  so  unreasonable  as  to  expect  it.  He 
probably  told  himself  how  much  more  gray  he  had  grown, 
white  in  fact  and  old-looking.  Did  he  not  w^ear  clothes 
of  a  new  cut  and  style  that  made  him  appear  a  differ- 
ent person  ?  And  the  principal  reason,  had  he  not  treated 
me  before  with  the  greatest  reserve?  Had  he  not  failed 
t'^  ?ive  me  the  cpp'~>rtunitv  to  become  familiar  with  his 

93 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

voice,  his  manner,  his  appearance  and  I,  too,  had  been 
preoccupied  with  my  music  and  acting.  And  in  such  a 
crowd!  Was  he  not  in  fact  treating  me  now  again  with 
the  same  reserve  ?  Did  he  not  stand  there  shaking  ahnost 
and  blushing,  unable  to  speak,  having  to  leave  all  the  talk- 
ing, even  to  the  giving  of  his  own  invitations  to  Mr.  Tern 
Oldock! 

That  was  the  curse  of  his  nature,  his  bashful,  ner- 
vously shy,  self -observing,  self-seeing  nature,  his  honestly 
self-distrustful  conscientiousness,  which  made  him,  while 
at  the  same  time  his  heart  cried  for  it  in  a  way  afraid 
of  being  recognized,  and  feel  relieved  to  have  the  recog- 
nition postponed. 

Something  regretful  my  father  found  about  me  affected 
him  like  a  reproof.  But  there  was  not  so  much  grieving 
in  me  as  he  supposed.  I  had  suffered  as  a  boy  of  my 
disposition,  of  strong  sensibility  if  of  happy  spirits,  must 
suffer.  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  sustained  the  affliction 
so  well  had  I  not  been  in  a  manner  charmed.  Feeling 
myself  as  I  always  did  in  the  hands  of  an  incomprehen- 
sible, hostile  power,  under  whose  sway  and  ban  there  was 
left  to  me  no  real  freedom  of  action,  to  do  or  to  plan, 
this  unknown  doom  overhanging  and  darkening  my  whole 
life,  made  me  less  susceptible  to  other  pains.  There  was 
no  disappointment  so  cruel  but  it  was  easy  to  endure 
compared  to  that  my  destiny,  no  wound  so  smarting  but 
it  was  as  nothing  by  the  side  of  that  blow  ready  to  fall 
on  me  at  any  moment ! 

But  is  not  this  untrue  ?  Do  I  not  know  that  every  dis- 
appointment, grief  and  sorrow  has  been  made  tenfold 
more  keen,  sore  and  sad  by  this,  my  consciousness  of  my 
fate;  like  the  torturing  of  one  dying-ill. 

Yet  so  much  is  true,  it  made  me  fight  back  hard.  The 
very  sharpness  of  the  pains  drove  me  to  struggle  fiercely 
to  overcome  them,  to  wrestle  myself  clear  of  whatever 
torments  beset  me,  else  how  could  I  have  lived?     Thus  I 

94 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

had  beaten  off  what  vicious  pangs  would  assail  me,  and 
the  wounds  of  my  heart  had  begun  to  heal  as  soon  as  I 
had  seen  Mahon  and  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  at  my  sick  bed. 
And  they  had  continued  to  heal  with  change,  new  occupa- 
tion, study,  new  companionship,  though  of  boys  rather 
too  old  for  me,  till  not  even  my  hatred  for  Thomson  was 
any  more  so  very  deadly.  And  whatever  wounds  were 
still  left  unhealed,  closed  of  themselves  when  in  the  em- 
brace of  my  father  I  knew^  him  again,  as  the  friend  of 
friends. 

I  was  really  at  this  time  almost  altogether  taken  up 
with  ^lahon's  departure  and  the  new  sorrow  it  brought 
me,  and  not  with  those  former  grievances,  if  they  did 
have  the  same  first  cause  and  last  purpose.  I  had  always 
known  Mahon  was  going  away,  and  his  departure  in  itself 
was  not  the  deepest  of  my  regrets.  It  was  the  disappoint- 
ment that  I  was  not  to  go  with  him. 

I  always  took  things  as  they  came.  I  had  no  claim 
on  Mr.  Tem  Oldock,  I  never  felt  as  if  I  had,  or  on  any- 
body. Besides,  I  knew  very  well  that  Mr.  Tem  Oldock 
must  never  be  taken  at  his  word  too  literally  and  seriously, 
but  in  this  instance  I  was  sure  he  had  meant  what  he  had 
said.  A  [any  times  he  had  told  me  that  he  would  take 
me  with  Mahon  to  Europe.  Only  lately  he  had  silently 
dropped  the  matter,  speaking  now  a  little  mysteriously 
about  our  all  shortly  meeting  again  on  his  and  Mahon 's 
return. 

They  were  supposed  to  come  back  soon.  I  believed 
myself  they  would.  I  knew  Mahon  did  not  care 
for  this  trip.  And  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  I  considered  as  no 
more  than  in  a  way  self-persuaded  against  his  better  judg- 
ment to  take  this  trip.  They  would  return  that  I  myself 
felt  sure  of,  and  that  was  my  consolation.  The  dis- 
appointment I  had  to  take  and  overcome,  fight  down, 
though  it  meant  the  destruction  of  all  the  air  castles  built 
up  by  me  on  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  say-so. 

95 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

What  childish  hopes!  Dreaming  of  rejoining  that 
troupe  of  Mexican  children!  How  I  might  find  them, 
and  become  one  of  them  again  and  bring  back  to  me  the 
happiness  I  had  lost! 

I  believed  them  to  have  gone  to  Europe.  I  suppose 
I  had  heard  that  talked  about  when  I  was  with  them. 
I  believe  I  thought  I  need  but  go  to  Europe  to  fall  in 
witli  them.  I  had  planned  to  learn  to  play  some  instru- 
ment to  become  a  musician  for  their  orchestra,  if  it  was 
found  that  I  was  truly  unable  to  sing.  Or  I  could  do 
or  be  a  thousand  somethings.  Let  me  but  once  more  be 
with  them  and  I  should  find  my  happiness  among  them 
as  before! 

I  had  been  informed  that  morning  that  arrangements 
had  been  made  for  me  to  stay  and  board  at  the  college 
the  whole  of  the  vacation,  since  I  had  nowhere  to  go 
when  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  closed  his  house.  Not  very  much 
later  I  was  told  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  had  that  instant  ar- 
rived and  was  with  Mahon  in  the  reception-room,  where 
they  wanted  to  see  me. 

It  was  one  minute  of  excited  suspense.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  after  all  I  was  to  go  with  Mahon?  How 
could  1  help  thinking  it?  Tiie  next  minute  I  was  in  their 
presence,  and  everything  was  settled.  Mahon  had  been 
invited  by  somebody  to  pay  him  a  visit  at  his  place,  some- 
where in  the  country,  as  there  would  be  over  a  week's 
time  before  Mahon  would  start  with  his  father  on  their 
travels,  and  I  was  included  in  this  invitation  to  come  and 
stay  at  this  place  with  Mahon  till  Mahon  would  have  to 
leave.  Or,  I  might  stay  longer  if  I  liked,  stay  out  the 
whole  vacation,  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  said,  who  did  all  the 
talking. 

Soon  after  this  the  exercises  had  begun  and  were  over. 
The  graduation  had  taken  place,  and  a  late  luncheon 
had  been  partaken  of.  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  had  bidden  me 
farewell,  and  so  kindly,  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  bear  it. 

96 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAND'S 

After  that  I  remember  being  on  a  railway-train  with 
Mahon,  going  to  the  place  we  had  been  invited  to  by 
somebody,  whom  neither  :\Iahon  nor  I  knew.  Mahon 
after  a  linle  thinking  recollected  that  it  was  a  Mr.  Aliens, 
and  that  he  was  his  father's  banker.  But  his  father 
would  soon,  now.  be  his  own  banker,  Mahon  said,  as 
he  was  going  to  establish  a  bank  of  his  own.  And  as 
soon  as  I  was  through  with  the  college,  I  should  be  given 
a  place  in  that  bank,  and  grow  up  to  be  manager  of  it, 
his  father  had  told  him,  he  said. 

When  we  reached  the  railway  station  where  we  had 
to  leave  the  train  it  was  night.  A  man  was  waiting  for 
us  with  a  team  to  take  us  to  the  dwelling-house  on  the 
ranch.  I  recollect  the  ride  seeming  very  long  to  me,  and 
that  Mahon  was  the  whole  time  in  conversation  with  our 
driver  about  the  farming  of  the  ranch.  Then  we 
arrived ;  and  now,  when  our  Mr.  Aliens  stood  before  me, 
blinking  and  breathing  hard,  some  peculiar  feeling  did 
come  to  me.  I  thought  that  I  had  seen  him  before,  or 
that  he  looked  like  somebody  I  had  known. 

Naturally  he  should  bestow  more  attention  on  Mahon. 
his  principal  guest,  than  on  me,  though  he  did  it  to  all 
but  total  avoidance  of  me.  He  hesitated  to  take  my 
offered  hand,  and  when  he  did  take  it,  I  felt  his  hand 
tremble.  He  did  not  look  me  in  the  face.  His  voice  was 
uncertain— harsh.  Yet  an  inexpressibly  sweet  air  of  all 
that  is  kind  hung  about  him.  And  in  every  one  of  these 
things  there  was  something  familiar  to  me.  Could  I  have 
pursued  the  thoughts  my  impressions  called  forth  as  they 
unclearly  moved  in  me,  it  might  have  led  to  my  recog- 
nizing him  even  before  our  supper  was  over.  But  just 
then  my  mind  was  fully  occupied  with  the  parting  from 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock.  whose  unexpected  tenderness  at  the 
last  moment  had  made  the  parting  with  him  all  the  harder 

to  me. 

Could  I  never  remain  for  good  with  any  one  ?    Must  I 

97 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

always  leave  every  where  as  soon  as  I  was  happy  there? 
Parting!     Forever  parting! 

Going  to  bed  I  found  that  Mahon  and  I  were  to  oc- 
cupy separate  bed-rooms  that  did  not  even  connect.  Mine 
was  adjoining  Mr.  Allens's  bed-room,  connected  with  it 
through  the  bath-room.  Mahon's  room  was  quite  across 
the  hall.  And  as  a  last  impression  I  remember  that  I  did 
not  like  this  arangement. 

In  the  morning,  I  found  that  Mahon  had  got  up  long 
before  me  and  gone  with  the  foreman  to  the  harvesting 
in  the  fields  and  that  I  was  expected  to  go  on  horse- 
back with  our  Mr.  Aliens  to  visit  a  Mrs.  Sullivan.  I 
myself  should  have  chosen  to  go  harvesting  with  Mahon, 
I  am  sure,  and  I  can  fancy  how  well  my  father  compre- 
hended that,  how  pained  he  was  that  T  should  not  have 
my  wish,  how  ready,  had  I  but  expressed  it,  to  renounce 
his  own  desires,  undo  his  own  plan.  For  he  most  as- 
suredly had  planned  this  trip  for  him  and  me  together. 

But  if  I  could  not  go  harvesting  with  Mahon,  it  was 
my  disposition  to  make  the  most  of  whatever  other  ar- 
rangement was  made  and  willing  and  glad  to  go  horseback 
with  our  host.     I  saw  in  his  face  that  he  was  pleased. 

Mrs.  Sullivan's  place  was  a  little  high  valley  in  the 
upper  hills  above  Gilroy  with  a  winding  canyon  outlet 
into  the  bigger  valley  below.  The  house  and  barn  stood 
at  one  side  at  the  foot  of  a  tree-grown  knoll.  Mrs.  Sul- 
livan was  sitting  on  the  little  porch  under  climbing  plants, 
as  though  expecting  us. 

Just  another  such  bright-faced,  merry,  tender  and 
whole-hearted  Irish  girl  as  Mrs.  Sullivan  must  have  been, 
T  always  imagine,  Mahon's  mother  was  not  so  quiet  per- 
haps as  Mrs.  Sullivan,  made  quiet  by  her  sorrows.  Her 
children  were  all  dead  and  her  husband  turned  to  dissi- 
pation, had  gone  to  start  life  anew  at  a  distant  place, 
where  she  was  to  join  him  as  soon  as  the  sale  of  her  place 
was  accomplished.     I  remember  how  from  greeting  mv 

98 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

father  she  turned  to  me,  holding  out  hoth  her  hands,  say- 
ing: "And  this  is  the  boy."  She  drew  me  to  her  as 
though  she  would  kiss  me,  then  let  my  hands  go,  turmng 
away  to  hide  her  tears. 

On  the  way  home,  my  father  told  me  that  her  two  sons 
had  died  some  years  ago,  both  from  the  same  disease 
within  a  week's  time.  He  supposed,  he  said,  I  had 
recalled  them  to  her  mind,  they  having  been  near  my 
age  I  felt  sorry  for  her.  I  liked  her  very  much.  How 
it  was,  I  could  not  tell,  but  she  brought  into  my  head 
that  lady  I  had  once  met  at  Fountain  Head.  I  thmk 
it  was  her  motherliness  that  did  it;  something  that 
awakened  in  me  to  mv  conscious  perception  the  void  I 
often  felt  of  the  mother's  love  that  I  had  never  known. 

Other  things   called  up  memories   of   Fountain   Head 
and  Five  Oaks.    All  day  long  I  was  full  of  thoughts  and 
remembrances   of  both  places.     To  be   sure  it  was  the 
con'^equence  of  being  in  the  country,  on  the  hills  in  the 
sunshine,  the  round-top  live  oaks   crouching  over  their 
shadows,  the  cringing  scrub-brush  and  chaparral  chng- 
mcr  like   moss  to   the  rounding   ground   in   the  hollows, 
the    dry    soil    everywhere    full    of    cracks    between    the 
withered  grass,   the  cattle,  the  haystacks,  the  hazy   dis- 
tance.    I  almost  craved  to  talk  and  tell  about  it  and  all 
other  things  belonging  to  the  country  that  I  knew  and 
saw,  as  we  were  riding  about  after  having  stayed  at  Mrs. 
Sullivan's   till   after   luncheon,   onh"    I    never   could,   nor 
indeed  ever  tried  to  bring  myself  to  speak  of  it  and  let 
anybody  know  that  I  had  been  living  there,  any  more 
than  I  ever  mentioned  the  old  wharf. 

But  as  we  rode  along,  almost  aimlessly  it  appeared, 
a  strange  sort  of  feeling  or  idea  came  to  me,  as  though 
this  Mr.  Aliens  understood  in  a  way  my  interest  in 
country  life  and  other  things,  me,  myself  altogether. 
Perhaps  it  was  conveved  in  some  words  of  his.  Yet 
we  spoke  but  little.     Or  it  was  the   feeling  in  myself. 

99 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

For  it  was  not  only  quick  and  ready  memory,  it  was 
actual  feeling  in  me.  I  felt  as  if  I  was  going  with  Young 
Hants  over  the  hills  and  the  air  was  coming  up  the 
warm  valley.  It  was  between  three  and  four  years  now 
since  I  had  left  Five  Oaks  and  still  I  had  the  same  feel- 
ing I  used  to  have  when,  the  evening  coming  on,  I  rode 
with  Hants  home  to  the  little  house  on  the  hill  from  the 
fields  or  pastures.  Home !  Home !  In  spite  of  all  that 
could  threaten  me,  the  coming  home  had  always  made 
me  happy.     And  something  was  making  me  happy  now. 

Mahon  had  returned  from  the  fields  on  the  other  side 
of  the  valley  a  little  before  we  came  back.  He  was  sun- 
burned and  tired  but  vaunting  his  pleasure  and  satisfac- 
tion in  the  day's  work  and  protesting  that  nothing  should 
keep  him  from  employing  in  the  same  way  all  his  time  till 
the  day  came  for  his  departure. 

I  suppose  I  was  as  tired  as  Mahon,  with  the  unusual 
exercise  of  being  in  the  saddle  so  many  hours,  although 
I  had  not  seldom,  in  town,  gone  with  Mahon  on  hired 
saddle-horses  for  rides  through  the  park  and  along  the 
beach. 

We  went  to  bed  early  that  night.  Generally  I  had  a 
premonition  when  I  was  to  have  my  night-mare,  and  it 
would  come  as  soon  as  I  had  fallen  asleep.  This  night 
I  had  no  warning  and  slept  soundly  for  hours  before  it 
came.  I  felt  somebody  was  holding  me  down  and  knew 
I  was  in  my  dream.  I  tried  to  wake  up  but  I  could  not. 
I  had  to  go  on. 

I  was  on  the  big,  bald  mountain  near  the  Black's  hut, 
with  Salvador  on  his  horse.  He  had  me  lassoed  and  fas- 
tened and  was  dragging  me  toward  one  of  the  old  mining 
shafts,  where  that  strange  man  and  the  Black  were  stand- 
ing, to  throw  me  down  the  shaft.  I  tried  to  slip  my 
fastenings  and  almost  had  got  free  when  the  strange  man 
fell  on  me  and  rolled  me  over  till  my  head  overhung  the 
opening  of  the  shaft  and  I  could  see  deep  down  at  the 

100 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

bottom  a  horrible,  fiery  snake-worm.  I  fought  hard  to 
get  free,  and  then  turning  a  little  I  saw  over  me,  close, 
the  distorted  face  I  so  well  knew,  of  the  strange  man. 
Suddenly  it  w^as  nu  longer  he,  but  our  Mr.  Aliens.  Then 
at  once  I  heard  some  one  calling  to  me  not  to  be  afraid. 
And  that  was  the  friend  of  Lopeto.  He  was  trying  to 
drag  that  strange  man  from  off  me.  I  was  struggling 
to  get  from  under,  and  when  I  awoke,  soaking  wet  and 
hot  and  gasping  with  exhaustion,  I  was  in  the  arms  of 
our  Mr.  Aliens,  who  was  calling  me  by  name,  asking  me 
in  breathless  distress,  speaking  Spanish,  if  1  did  not 
know  him. 

I  said:    "You  are  the  friend  of  Lopeto." 

I  knew  him  now  perfectly  well.  In  all  the  tumult  of 
my  mind  and  the  stupor,  too,  my  dream  generally  left  me 
in,  it  was  fully  clear  to  me,  and  I  felt  an  infinite  glad- 
ness of  it.  Yet  I  had  a  momentary  perception  of  my  an- 
swer not  being  entirely  satisfactory.  I  could  not  think 
what  was  wrong  with  it.  For  there  could  be  no  doubt 
but  that  the  man  who  was  holding  me  in  his  arms  was 
the  friend  of  Lopeto.  I  was  sure  of  it.  He  was  speak- 
ing to  me,  telling  me  how,  having  left  the  bathroom-door 
open,  he  had  heard  my  moaning  and  had  come  to  rouse  me 
up  out  of  my  night-mare.  He  had  raised  me  up  to 
sitting,  he  was  bathing  my  face,  calming  me  with  kindest 
words.     And  he  was  our  Mr.   Aliens. 

But  where  was  Lopeto? 

I  think  at  first  I  must  have  believed  him  to  be  near 
by.  I  don't  know  but  what  I  thought  they  were  all 
come  back,  the  whole  troupe,  till  my  father,  conceiving 
my  impatient  desire  to  hear  all  he  could  have  to  say, 
forthwith  began  to  give  his  information.  And  for  all 
that  had  to  be  told  and  listened  to  and  asked  again,  re- 
told and  explained  the  night  was  not  long  enough. 

I  learned  the   fate  of  the  little  company,  the   fact  of 

lOI 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

their  breaking  up  and  dissolution,  and  knew  there  could 
be  no  more  rejoining  them. 

With  what  fatherly  concern  did  he  set  to  work  to 
inquire  into  the  conditions  of  my  thoughts  and  feelings, 
to  obtain  an  insight  into  all  that  lived  within  me,  draw- 
ing from  me  with  so  gentle  and  untiring  perseverance 
every  conceit,  not  only  to  gain  knowledge  of  my  true 
wants  as  every  good  father  would  but  also  to  make  me  un- 
derstand myself  as  far  as  that  was  possible  at  my  age, 
and  no  less  to  let  me  know  that  I  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
friend  for  life. 

With  this  it  was  characteristic  of  my  father  that  no 
mention  was  made  of  my  staying  or  going.  But  I  felt 
myself  at  liberty  to  take  it  as  self -understood  that  I  was 
to  remain  living  with  my  Mr.  Aliens. 

My  recognition  of  him  as  the  other,  the  older  and 
dearer  friend  took  place  soon  after  this,  as  soon  as 
Mahon's  departure  left  us  alone  together. 

Mahon  went  away  after  being  two  weeks  on  the 
ranch,  to  be  now  for  certain  taken  to  Europe  and  made 
a  gentleman  of,  as  his  father  would  have  it.  How  sorry 
he  was  to  go,  increasing  again  my  sorrow  to  part  from 
him.  I  had  never  seen  him  like  that.  But  he  had  been 
quite  different  from  his  usual  self  during  the  whole  time 
of  his  stay  on  the  ranch.  Ordinarily  he  had  an  indif- 
ference of  manner,  and  would  seem  to  be  bored  by  his 
pursuits  and  never  seriously  interested  in  them.  Now 
he  had  been  taking  part  in  the  work  of  the  big  ranch 
every  day  from  daw^n  to  dusk,  making  himself  familiar 
v/ith  the  different  cultures,  and  with  an  ease,  challeng- 
ing everybody's  admiration.  He  was  full  of  interest  at 
every  point  and  all  full  of  general  activity,  life,  talk, 
fun  and  happiness,  not  differing  so  much  perhaps  with 
my  state,  if  I  must  believe  that  my  happiness  at  that 
time  was  greater  than  anybody's  and  equaled  only  by 
that  of  my  father's. 

102 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

For  this  was  the  time,  of  all  the  times  of  my  life,   1 
think  the  most  wonderful.     Never  can  1  lose  the  impres- 


sion 


When  :Mahon  left,  my  father  went  with  him  to  town, 
as  if  he  must  personally  return  and  deliver  him  to  Mr. 
Tem  Oldock,  while  I,  for  the  few  days  my  father  would 
be  absent,  was  to  stay  with  Mrs.  SulUvan. 

I  should  have  liked  to  have  gone  along  with  my  father 
and  Mahon  very  much.  And  I  did  not  see  why  I  should 
not  do  so,  nor  why  1  could  not  remain  on  the  ranch  if  I 
was  to  stay  behind.  But  it  was  so  arranged,  and  accord- 
inglv  I  rode  over  to  Mrs.   Sullivan's. 

It  was  doubtless  one  of  my  father's  plannings.  Per- 
haps he  aimed  at  making  the  parting  from  Mahon  less 
grievous  to  me.  And  I  well  conceive  his  owai  feelings 
at  seeing  my  sorrow  ;  as  though  he  alone  were  respon- 
sible for  it.  Or  he  may  have  wanted  Mrs.  Sullivan's 
aid  in  preparing  me  for  what  I  now^  must  come  to  know. 

I  had  been  to  :Mrs.  Sullivan's  several  times  during 
these  weeks  with  my  father  and  once  alone,  and  she  had 
more  than  once  as  good  as  told  me,  only  that  I  could 
not  take  her  meaning,  that  he  was  my  father.  I  had 
certainly  come  to  like  her  very  much,  but  no  liking  could 
do  away  with  the  homesickness  that  invariably  befel  me 
when  I'had  to  leave  an  accustomed  place,  be  it  for  but  a 
short  time  which  now  found  more  nourishment  in  my 
feelings  at  :\Iahon's  leaving. 

It  was  but  a  few  days  till  my  father  returned.  He 
had  telegraphed  on  leaving  town  for  me  to  come  home 
that  night.  Tlie  telegram  was  forwarded  to  Mrs.  Sul- 
livan's from  Gilroy,  and  the  messenger  arrived  just  as 
I  was  on  the  way  to  my  room  to  make  ready  for  supper. 
1  remember  Mrs.  Sullivan  coming,  running  after  me. 
with  the  telegram  in  her  hand,  calling  out :  "Here !  Here 
is  a  prescription  for  a  homesick  boy!" 

And  she  did  not  insist  on  my  eating  supper  first,  but 

103 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

herself  urged  me  on  to  hurry,  as  I  rode  oft*  in  the  darkea- 
ing  night. 

Home !     Home !     Going  home ! 

The  stars  were  faint.  Ahead  on  the  shadowy  hills 
hung  full  the  reddish  moon,  as  in  the  nights  of  long  ago 
I  thought  not  of  them,  but  their  influence  was  over  me. 

I  was  under  the  oaks  in  the  valley.  I  was  in  the 
orchard.  I  rode  to  the  farm-yard  to  leave  the  horse  in 
the  corral,  and  ran  to  the  house. 

Now  I  saw  the  lights  of  the  house  under  the  black 
trees  and  their  beams  came  like  liquid  something  rushing 
into  my  heart,  filling  it  all  v/ith  glowing  joy. 

And  then  I  saw  my  father  standing  on  the  veranda, 
half-biding  behind  a  post,  as  I  had  so  often  seen  him  at 
the  old  wharf,  standing,  half-hiding  behind  a  pile-head. 
I  ran  to  him  as  I  had  always  run  to  him  as  soon  as  I  saw 
him  there  waiting  for  me.     He  1 

Next  morning  I  saw  little  Harry.  He  had  been  stay- 
ing in  tov/n  with  his  nursery-girl  since  their  leturn  from 
abroad.  My  father  had  brought  him  with  him  from 
town,  telling  me  nothing  about  it.  When  in  the  morn- 
ing, by  my  father's  arranging  I  met  him  alone,  I  did 
not  remember  him  right  aw^ay,  in  spite  of  his  crippled 
leg,  till  going  up  to  him  in  my  pleasure  at  seeing  a  little 
child  and  my  attempt  at  making  friends,  I  noticed  him 
trembling  with  bashful  apprehension,  standing  with  down- 
turned  face,  not  daring  to  meet  my  eyes,  and  at  once 
recollected  the  shy  little  cripple  I  had  seen  at  this  place 
when  I  had  been  here  with  the  Mexican  children. 

My  father  told  us  how  Mahon  when  he  heard  about 
little  Harry  had  exclaimed:  "That  is  right.  That  will 
fit  exactly,  Manuel  will  be  perfectly  happy  now.  Just 
let  him  have  a  little  child  to  play  with  all  day  and  he 
will  want  nothing  more."  And  Harry  seemed  naturally 
to  fall  to  my  charge.  He  could  do  without  his  nursery- 
girl  anyhow  very  well  by  this  time. 

104 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

At  first,  I  was  very  careful  not  to  force  myself  on 
him  but  to  advance  only  little  by  little  in  the  familiarities 
and  intimacies  of  brotherly  fellowship.  But  with  my 
self -unconscious  openness  and  freedom,  I  could  not  but 
directly  show  my  affection  for  him,  and  that  was  what 
won  his  heart.  In  this  respect,  as  in  so  many  others 
he  was  the  exact  counterpart  of  our  father.  The  mo- 
ment any  one  showed  him  real  attachment  and  fondness, 
he  melted  right  away,  while  he  was  at  the  same  time 
most  shy. 

It  took  me  much  longer  to  get  him  to  feel  easy  or  al- 
most easy  in  my  presence  and  to  allow  the  touch  of  my 
hands  without  more  than  an  involuntary  drawing  back, 
than  it  took  me  to  gain  his  heart.  Some  little  tricks,  too, 
I  employed,  pretending  at  times  to  have  hurt  myself,  un- 
scrupulously working  on  his  tenderness,  making  him  tie 
up  my  hand,  hold  a  wet  towel  to  my  head  or  neck,  rub 
my  arm.  all  of  which  he  did  at  my  doleful  bidding  with 
gentle   compassion,   overcoming   his    shyness. 

My  father  had  procured  a  pony  for  him.  With  the 
stirrup  fixed  to  suit  his  leg  he  sat  the  horse  very  well, 
and  to  my  delight  and  pride  as  his  instructor  in  horse- 
manship, he  showed  himself  very  clever  and  perfectly 
fearless.  His  trust  in  me  was  such,  he  would  unhesi- 
tatingly undertake  anything  I  told  him  to  try.  He  went 
with  our  father  and  me  on  all  our  trips  over  the  whole 
ranch,  with  the  workings  of  which  my  father  had  be- 
fore this  begun  to  make  me  familiar. 

I  think  my  father  at  bottom  wished  that  I  should 
eventually  come  to  make  the  farming  of  the  ranch  the 
pursuit  of  my  life  in  preference  not  only  to  music,  but 
to  any  other  profession.  I  certainly  showed  great  liking 
for  life  in  the  country,  and  I  surely  had  had  enough  prac- 
tical experience  in  farming  to  know  the  hard  work  and 
drawbacks  of  it.  He  had  bought  the  ranch,  which  was 
an  old  Spanish  Grant,  at  a  very  low  price  in  a  period 

105 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

of  financial  depression  during  the  first  year  after  his 
arrival  in  California.  He  had  farmed  parts  of  it  from 
the  day  he  took  possession  of  it,  step  by  step  bringing 
more  of  it  under  cultivation,  being  as  a  rule  successful. 
He  was  not  only  a  man  of  sense  and  judgment  but  some- 
thing of  a  natural-born  farmer  and  certainly  a  good  busi- 
ness-man, in  spite  of  his  bash  fulness  and  other  weak 
points.  He  often  had  wanted  to  retire  from  city  business 
and  give  himself  up  completely  to  the  ranch.  I  believe  he 
now  meant  me  to  decide ;  that  if  I  showed  continued  liking 
and  aptitude  to  be  a  farmer,  he  would  with  so  much  great- 
er contentment  retire  from  active  business  in  the  city  to 
more  active  life  in  the  country  with  his  children  round 
him. 

But  I  was  not  to  be  urged  or  persuaded  or  merely 
influenced  into  adopting  farming  for  my  life's  work  and 
profession.  I  was  to  be  shown  business  life  in  the  city 
as  well,  and  to  be  put  in  a  fair  way  of  seeing  and  judg- 
ing for  myself  what  suited  me  best,  if  a  boy  of  my  age 
can  judge  and  tell  what  occupation  or  trade  or  profes- 
sion or  business  suits  him  best.  It  might  seem  proof  of 
a  certain  natural  aptness  in  me  that  I,  only  a  rather  small 
boy  should  know  farm  work  as  I  did.  I  might  know 
much  more  and  yet  be  never  anything  of  a  farmer.  Or  1 
might  learn  to  be  a  good  farmer,  yet  never  in  all  my  life 
be  fit  to  run  a  big  ranch,  which  means  to  be  a  boss,  to  be 
able  to  boss  others  and  a  good  many,  and  which  is  rather 
a  natural  gift.  And  yet  again  I  might,  be  made  to  ac- 
quire something  of  the  fitness  for  a  boss,  if  I  had  some 
gift  that  way  and  was  duly  trained,  be  a  farmer  and  a 
boss  and  still  never  be  able  to  make  the  farming  of  the 
big  ranch  pay,  if  I  was  not  as  well  a  business  man. 

Tlie  same,  of  course,  would  hold  good  for  a  city  busi- 
ness. And  after  all  it  might  be  easiest  to  predict  a 
future  for  me  as  a  musician,  since  certainly  my  talent 

io6 


CHROXICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALAXUS 

lay  in  that  direction.     If  only,  my  voice  being  gone,   I 
could  hit  on  tlie  intsrument  most  suited  to  my  talents. 

It  had  been  strange  to  me  that  with  the  remembering 
of  little  Harry,  the  morning  I  had  seen  him  for  the  first 
time  again,  there  had  come  to  me  the  instant  I  recol- 
lected him,  an  unpleasant  sensation,  as  though  he  were 
connected  with  some  disagreeable  experience  of  mine. 
It  did  not  stay  with  me  long.  It  was  but  momentary. 
I  quickly  forgot  it.  Days  passed,  when  without  warn- 
ing, with  no  apparent  occasion,  cause  or  reason  came 
like  a  black  shadow  the  recollection  of  Cora  She  had 
been  at  this  place  at  that  time  when  we  Mexican  chil- 
dren had  been  here.  She  had  been^  near  the  little 
crippled  boy  when  we  had  come  across  him. 

I  had  not  forgotten  her,  but  I  had  not  thought  of  her. 
Where  was  she  now?     And  who  was  she  anyhow? 

If  she  were  the  daughter  of  our  Mr.  Aliens,  the  friend 
of  Lopeto,  my  :\Ir.   Aliens,  how   had   she  come  to  call 
tliat  other  man,  that  strange  man  papa,  as  I  only  too  well 
remembered  her  doing  not  once  but  a  dozen  times  in  that 
room  where  he  brought  her  and  that  lady  to  see  me  ? 
And  that  man,  who  was  he?    What  was  he? 
Thomson  had  told  me  of  a  man  he  said  was  my  father, 
who  had  tried  to  kill  my  mother  and  me  before  I  was 
born,  and  had  left  her   for   dead  on  the  desert  ocean- 
beach.     From  all  he  said  that  should  be  the  man  who 
had  taken  me  away  from  the  old  wharf  and  wanted  to 
kill  me.     I  had  speculated  on  it  more  when  I  first  had 
heard   Thomson's   story,  because   I   had  to  try  hard  to 
put   it   in   shape   to   make   it   understandable   to   myself. 
I   can   not   say  that   I  thought  much  about   it  now,   for 
was  I  not  in  the  hands  now  of  him  to  whom  I  belonged, 
who  would  shield  me  from  any  foe  and  never  give  me 
up?     But   if   I  believed   and   felt   sure   of  this,   just   as 
surely   did   I   believe   that   strange   man   to   be   the  man 
Thomson   had   said  was  my   father.      It  must  be   so,   it 

107 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

seemed  to  me.  The  only  explanation  of  his  acts,  his 
doings  to  me,  was  in  my  mind  that  he  was  my  father. 
Even  at  this  time,  when  it  occurred  to  me  as  soon  as  I 
had  begun  to  think  of  Cora,  that  his  being  my  father 
would  make  her  my  sister,  at  least  some  sort  of  half- 
sister.  It  appeared  to  fit  perfectly  in  the  general  com- 
bination of  circumstances  giving  evidence  in  proof  of  his 
being  my  father. 

Naturally  I  was  not  so  conscious  of  all  this  as  I  ex- 
press it.  At  best  I  could  but  vaguely  distinguish.  Much 
remained  mysterious.  Mysterious  was  Cora's  staying 
away  from  us.  She  was  absent  all  this  time.  She  never 
came  to  the  ranch.  I  never  saw  her  again  till  we  moved 
into  town.  Why  did  she  not  come  as  had  been  cus- 
tomary with  her  to  do  before  she  went  abroad?  My 
father  surely  would  have  wanted  her  to  come  and  see 
me  as  he  had  brought  her  to  see  me  when  I  belonged 
to  the  Mexican  children,  as  he  afterwards  brought  her 
to  visit  us  at  our  place  in  town.  Perhaps  she  chose  to 
avoid  me.  But  for  what?  I  thought  of  her  with  appre- 
hension, that  is  true  enough,  when  once  she  had  been  re- 
called to  my  mind.  For  a  number  of  days  I  expected 
almost  hourly  to  see  her  appear.  When  she  never  came, 
I  never  saw  her,  never  heard  her  mentioned,  she  was  less 
and  less  in  my  mind. 

Another  greater  mystery  was  the  connection  between 
my  Mr.  Aliens  and  that  strange  man.  That  there  was 
some  connection  between  them  became  very  soon  quite 
evident  to  me,  and  I  should  have  spoken  about  it  to  my 
father,  but  I  could  not.  One  main  cause  lay,  I  dare  say, 
in  my  feeling  in  a  manner  under  my  ban  forbidden  to  tell ; 
but  principally  and  more  than  all  other  reasons  com- 
bined, I  was  kept  from  speaking  out  of  consideration 
for  my  father. 

Eager  as  he  was  to  hear  my  story,  to  learn  every 
particular  of  my  experiences,  when  I  came  to  the  first 

io8 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

blow  Richard  Alanus  dealt  me,  it  hurt  my  father  in  a 
way  that  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  go  on.  There  was 
such  misery  in  him,  such  indignation,  injury,  hatred,  I 
could  not  go  on.  I  gave  my  story  from  the  time  I  fell 
into  Richard's  hands,  till  I  was  left  with  the  Black  on 
the  mountain  but  in  merest  outline. 

He  knew  that  man,  that  I  could  tell.  But  he  never 
mentioned  him,  and  I  remained  at  that  time  without 
knowledge  who  Richard  Alanus  was.  The  name  I  had 
heard  Thomson  speak,  but  with  such  peculiar  pronuncia- 
tion, following  my  mother's  Spanish,  I  suppose,  that  I 
could  have  no  idea  of  its  being  the  same  which  Mahon 
had  given  me  as  our  host's  name,  and  which  was  the  one 
commonly  used  by  everybody. 

I  can  not  say  that  in  all  this  time  I  saw  any  resem- 
blance between  my  father  and  Richard  Alanus.  To  be 
sure  Richard's  picture  must  by  this  time  have  been  faded 
away  a  good  deal  in  me.  It  was  when  I  saw  him  at  my 
father's  funeral,  after  all  the  years  I  had  not  seen  him, 
that  I  noted  not  the  likeness  but  the  difference  to  him. 
It  then  seemed  impossible  that  I  could  ever  have  been 
much  impressed  by  their  resemblance. 

When  the  rainy  season  was  well  advanced,  some  time 
before  Christmas,  we  left  the  ranch  and  came  to  town 
to  live  in  the  top-story  of  my  father's  large  business- 
building,  his  offices  being  in  the  story  below,  and  below 
that  again  warerooms  and  porters*  rooms.  The  general 
entrance  was  on  the  first  floor,  level  with  the  street. 

People  would  sometimes  wonder  why  my  father  would 
continue  to  live  with  us  in  those  big  rooms  on  the  third 
floor  of  that  old  building  that  was  nothing  but  an  old 
warehouse  made  over,  especially  as  he  had  another  town- 
house  near  South  Park,  which  was  quite  a  comfortable 
dwellin.^  with  handsome  rooms.  It  was  unoccupied  too, 
unoccupied  till  a  few  days  before  my  father's  death,  when 
his  wife  moved  in  by  Richard's  direction  or  his  lawyer's, 

109 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

to  be  in  possession  when  my  father  should  die.  She 
brought  Cora  from  her  concealment,  and  had  little  Harry 
carried  there  the  hour  my  father  died. 

I  never  was  inside  this  house.  I  never  was  at  the 
place  but  that  one  time,  the  day  of  my  father's  funeral, 
when  I  went  there  after  the  obsequies  to  find  my  little 
brother.  At  the  barred  gate  I  learned  from  Cora  of 
Harry's  inhuman  treatment  by  Richard,  and  set  out  that 
evening  for  the  mountains,  for  Fountain  Head,  where 
Richard  had  gone  straight  from  the  crematory,  when  he 
had  seen  me. 

But  the  other  place,  the  rooms  where  we  lived  over 
the  business-offices,  the  office  itself,  my  father's  office, 
all  parts  of  the  old,  plain,  cemented,  brick  building  with 
the  discolored,  iron  shutters ;  my  mind  has  often  turned 
to  them. 

I  was  office-boy  now  in  my  father's  business,  a  sort 
of  office-boy,  junior  clerk  and  messenger.  He  had  made 
me  such  to  have  me  with  him  as  much  as  possible.  It 
was  the  reason,  no  less,  of  his  living  with  us  in  those 
rooms  over  his  offices,  to  have  me  constantly  near  him. 
I  had  my  music  lessons  and  other  lessons  upstairs.  The 
rest  of  the  day  I  was  in  business. 

I  believe  my  father  was  in  a  way  proud  of  my  aptness. 
He  was  very  careful  about  my  initiation  in  all  the  duties 
of  a  new  beginner  in  the  business  of  what  was  now 
principally  a  banking  house.  He  taught  me  bookkeeping 
himself.  During  the  time  I  was  busy  with  my  lessons, 
early  in  the  morning  and  after  that  in  business,  little  Harry 
was  in  charge  of  a  day-governess,  who  stayed  till  lunch. 
But  after  lunch  he  came  with  us  into  my  father's  private 
office  and  sat  there  with  his  playthings  and  books  till  T 
had  to  go  on  messenger  duty,  and  he  went  with  me.  T 
know  my  father  felt  every  moment  of  my  absence  as  a 
loss,  yet  he  would  send  me  out,  afternoon  on  afternoon, 
sometimes  even  making  up  messages  to  take  me  a  good 

no 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

distance,  that  J  might  not  suffer  from  confinement.  Harr)' 
always  accompanied  me.  Afterwards  then  we  had  to 
report  all  we  had  noticed.  Perhaps  we  did  not  come 
iiome  till  dark,  making  my  father  not  seldom  a  little 
anxious,  and  being  a  little  late  for  dimier.  But  that 
made  it  only  the  more  enjoyable.  Later  we  had  music, 
games,  books  and  talk,  till  I  had  to  carry  Harry  to  bed. 
Then  came  the  time  for  my  father  to  take  sole  possession 
of  me  till  our  own  bed-time  arrived. 

We  did  not  often  go  out  in  the  evening,  except,  to 
be  sure,  to  every  concert  of  any  account  and  to  hear 
musicians  of  note.  Occasionally  he  would  take  me  to 
the  theatre,  of  which  I  was  more  fond  than  he  knew, 
I  believe,  and  then  we  had  a  little  supper  afterwards  at 
some  one  of  the  many  famous  restaurants  of  our  town. 
Not  so  seldom  he  would  go  with  me  to  an  athletic  club, 
of  which  he  was  a  life-member  and  he  had  made  me  join 
the  boy's  class,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
me  excell  in  sports  and  games  and  in  all  sorts  of  gym- 
nastics, which  I  then  reproduced  at  home  with  little 
Harry,  to  our  mutual  delight.  He  would  also  have  a 
game  of  billiards  with  me  there,  chuckling  heartily  at 
being  defeated  by  me. 

One  very  beautiful  day,  a  holiday.  Washington's  Birth- 
day I  think,  he  rode  with  little  Harry  and  me  to  the 
beach  below  Ingleside,  where,  putting  up  the  team  at  a 
public  stable,  we  spent  the  whode  day,  going  on  foot 
more  than  half  way  to  Mussel  Rock.  The  tide  was  out 
very  low,  so  that  little  Harry  could  walk  finely  on  the 
hard,  wet  sand.  I  remember  our  seeing  many  schools  of 
sea  lions,  floundering  and  rolling  over  and  over  in  the 
green,  curving  water  of  the  outer  breakers. 

Only  once,  on  a  Sunday,  the  only  partly  clear  Sun- 
day, I  think,  of  the  whole  season,  we  all,  Cora  with  us, 
went  up  to  the  ranch  to  see  how  everything  was  going 
on  and  to  figure  out  in  how  many  weeks  we  might  return 

III 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

there  to  live.  My  father  had  been  planning  some  few 
alterations  to  the  old  dwelling-house.  We  found  them 
well  under  way,  and  I  can  not  forget  how  pleased  he  was 
with  the  new  arrangement  and  still  more  pleased  that  I 
liked  it ;  and  how  Cora  said  nothing  at  all. 

I  do  not  know  if  my  father  had  found  anything  in  me 
at  all  indicating  that  I  might  be  one  to  become  a  man 
for  the  world  of  city-business,  but  from  the  fulness  of 
his  content  at  this  time,  I  concluded  that  his  observations 
of  me  had  led  him  to  see  more  of  a  future  for  me  in 
growing  up  to  farming  the  ranch  than  to  doing  business 
in  the  city.  Life  on  the  ranch  then  it  was  to  be.  His 
banking-business  he  consolidated  with  another,  similar 
business  to  a  joint  affair,  of  which  he  held  the  controlling 
stock.  As  soon  as  the  alterations  of  the  house  were 
finished,  we  would  move  there  to  live  for  good  on  the 
big  ranch. 

I  did  not  love  the  city  as  1  did  the  country,  still  I  did 
not  dislike  our  town  life.  And  very  peculiarly  it  struck 
me  my  bashful  little  brother  showed  great  fondness  for 
town-life,  may  be  by  reason  of  the  greater  solitude  he 
found  in  the  crowds.  I  cannot  say  that  my  father  seemed 
less  happy  in  town  than  at  the  ranch.  Certainly  we  may 
all  have  been  happy  because  we  had  the  return  to  the 
ranch  before  us.  But  had  there  been  no  ranch  at  all. 
had  we  been  like  Nick  and  Nello  on  the  wharf  or  like 
Hants  and  France  on  the  hill-farm,  or  still  poorer,  we 
still  should  have  been  happy,  because  we  were  happy  in 
ourselves,  in  each  other. 

Cora  alone  was  outside  of  us,  against  us  all,  always ! 
And  so  she  should  be,  for  she  was  not  of  us. 

She  was  at  the  time  about  twelve  years  old,  well  grown 
and  with  promise  of  great  beauty  in  figure,  form,  coun- 
tenance and  every  feature.  She  was  yet  in  school,  the 
same  boarding-school  she  had  been  at  before.  It  was 
not  a  regular  school.     It  was  a  family  where  three,  four 

112 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

girls,  all  similarly  circumstanced  as  Cora,  had  been  put ; 
two  grown  up,  very  accomplished  daughters  of  the  family 
acting  as  teachers. 

Once  or  twice  a  week  she  came  to  our  place,  almost 
invariably  timing  her  visits  so  as  to  miss  meeting  me. 
She  was  not  afraid  of  me,  I  knew.  She  was  not  afraid 
of  anybody.  But  evidently  she  avoided  me.  It  gave  me 
an  unpleasant  feeling. 

When  she  did  come  to  dine  with  us  and  stay  over 
night,  it  was  always  on  condition  that  my  father  should 
take  her  to  the  theatre,  of  which  she  was  as  fond  as  I. 
He  always  wanted  me  to  come  with  them,  but  I  never 
Vv-ent  v/it'h  them.  She  would  after  the  play  come  home 
with  my  father  to  our  place  where  she  had  a  room  ad- 
joining our  large,  general  living  room,  a  very  pretty  room 
and  very  prettily  furnished  to  her  directions.  In  the 
morning  after  an  early  breakfast,  my  father  would  go 
with  her,  to  see  her  safe  to  her  boarding-school. 

She  never  came  thus  to  stay  at  our  place  but  what 
there  v/as  a  violent  outbreak  of  temper  and  onslaught 
on  the  little  cripple,  and  wrath  and  venom  for  his  watch- 
ful defender,  the  black  bastard,  as  she  designated  me. 

How  could  my  father  be  so  blind  to  what  she  really 
was?  But  he  was.  Not  till  the  end  came  did  his  eyes 
open.  Was  it  his  fondness  that  blinded  him?  And  what 
could  he  be  fond  of  in  her  who  so  hated  him  ?  Or  was  it 
his  own  fondness  that  he  was  fond  of. 

He  really  thought,  as  it  was  his  heart's  desire  that 
she  and  I  should  become  friends,  dearest  friends,  that 
we  were  merely  a  little  jealous  of  each  other  now,  and 
that  we  soon  would  come  to  love  each  other  like  brother 
and  sister,  what  he  believed  us  to  be,  as  his  children, 
both  of  his  body  and  blood.  One  time  he  told  us  to  so 
love  one  another,  and  made  her  kiss  me.  Her  kiss  was 
strangely  tender ;  very  like  his.  I  can  feel  it  now.  Could 
he  not  see  that  I  mistrusted  her,  detested  her,  abominated 

113 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

her  as  much  as  she  hated  me,  even  if  he  did  not  know 
of  the  shadowy  form  of  Richard  Alanus  always,  for  me, 
darkening  her  presence!  For  I  never  told  him  of  my 
iiret  meeting  with  her. 

His  presence  made  some  difference  in  her  behavior, 
that  is  true,  especially  after  he  had  told  her  that  I  was 
his  son.  For  he  did  tell  her  and  I  can  distinctly  mark  the 
time,  if  not  the  day,  right  after  the  kissing,  when  she 
became  much  more  guarded  and  much  more  hating. 

But  I  have  long  since  become  firmly  convinced  that 
she  always  knew  what  all  our  relationship  was,  always 
knew  Harry  to  be  my  father's  child  and  my  true  half- 
brother,  knew  all  about  who  and  what  I  was,  and  al- 
ways knew  Richard  Alanus  to  be  her  father,  knew  it  long 
before  in  my  presence  she  called  him  papa,  which  she 
never  called  my  father.  I  noted  it  well.  Never  did  she 
call  my  father  papa  or  father. 

Had  only  my  father  told  me  instead  of  her  that  I  was 
his  son !  It  would  have  made  everything  clear  to  me.  At 
least  it  would  have  cleared  up  some  of  the  mystery  al- 
ways yet  surrounding  Richard  Alanus  for  me;  although 
from  talk  in  the  office  I  had  now  come  to  know  who  he 
was  and  some  particulars  of  his  life. 

But  to  what  good  could  my  father  have  spoken  ?  What 
single  occurrence  could  his  speaking  have  prevented? 
Not  Cora's  going  away  to  her  mother !  Not  my  father's 
death!  Not  the  taking  away  of  little  Harry  by  his 
mother,  as  soon  as  my  father  had  died  and  the  making 
over  of  him  by  her  to  Richard  Alanus  for  the  execu- 
tion of  his  inhuman  practices,  the  gratification  of  his  lust 
of  cruelty!     And  not  my  killing  that  devil! 

It  was  against  my  father's  nature  to  tell.  Not  till 
the  last  blow  came,  the  shock  of  Cora's  going  away, 
that  laid  him  on  his  death-bed,  not  till  then  could  he 
speak,  and  then  but  hesitatingly,  as  if  confessing  a  sin, 
asking  my  forgiveness,  telling  me  what  had  remained  un- 

114 


CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

told,  that  I  was  his  son.  his  own,  the  child  of  his  body,  his 
mind,  his  heart. 

After  that  he  lay  broken,  never  rallying. 

Certainly  the  thought  of  Cora's  being  taken  away  from 
him  by  her  mother  had  never  been  absent  from  his  mind, 
and  it  might  look  as  if  he  ought  to  have  been  prepared 
for  it.  But  such  constant,  ever  present  consideration 
of  possible  evil  to  come,  seems  to  me  not  to  strengthen  the 
heart  for  the  blow  when  it  is  dealt  but  to  weaken  it. 

Even  more  cause  for  anxiety  had  there  been  of  late. 
Richard  had  been  away  continuously.  Cora's  mother, 
whom  my  father  had  never  legally  divorced,  had  not 
gone  with  him,  but  had,  as  was  her  custom  when  she 
was  not  with  Richard,  whiled  her  Hfe  away  in  the  pur- 
suit of  the  shallow  entertainments  of  now  one  resort, 
now  another,  on  the  monthly  stipend  granted  her  by  my 
father.  Suddenly  they  both  reappeared  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, living  together  as  before,  but  with  a  certain  show 
of  secrecy  that  might  be  thought  alarming. 

Then  policemen  in  plain  clothes  and  private  detectives 
were  hired  by  my  father  to  watch  over  Cora  and  guard 
her.  As  if  she  were  not  fully  able  to  take  care  of  her- 
self, as  if  a  dozen  such  as  the  mother  and  the  father 
could  take  her  away  from  anywhere  to  anywhere,  unless 
she  wanted  to  go  herself. 

Then  she  was  gone. 

With  her  young  schoolmates  and  the  lady-teachers  of 
the  house  she  had  gone  down-town,  shopping.  In  front 
of  a  large  drygoods-store  she  had  turned  in  the  crowd 
on  the  sidewalk  and  stepped  into  a  carriage  waiting  at 
the  curb  with  the  door  open,  her  mother  being  seated  in 
the  carnage,  which  had  then  leisurely  gone  away. 

Now  she  was  in  hiding.  But  soon  all  hiding  was 
superfluous. 

My  father  sinking !  Sinking  hour  by  hour !  Helpless, 
often  unconscious,  not  even  recognizing  his  wife,  when 

115 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANIJS 

she  came,  sent  by  Richard !  Nothing  now  remaining  but 
wandering  thoughts  of  me !  TelHng  me  of  the  little  boy, 
who  had  loved  him  so,  and  whom  he  had  left  on  the  old 
wharf  to  drown ! 

Tlie  last  morning  early,  I  had  brought  little  Harry  to 
him.  It  was  but  a  moment.  His  eyes  cleared.  He 
looked  into  mine  as  if  to  pour  all  his  love  into  them.  He 
laid  my  hand  with  his  on  little  Harry's,  as  if  giving 
him  into  my  keeping.  He  made  a  movement  for  easier 
resting,  still  keeping  my  hand  in  his,  and  turning  his 
face  to  mine  with  a  shy  little  smile,  such  as  he  may 
when  a  baby  have  given  his  peasant  foster  mother  on 
awakening  in  the  morning,  and  then  closed  his  eyes  for- 
ever. 

It  will  always  be  to  me  one  of  the  strangest  things 
that  my  father,  who  knew  not  what  it  is  to  be  afraid, 
should  have  been  so  bashful,  blushing,  unable  to  com- 
municate to  others  anything  that  made  up  his  inner  life, 
incapable  almost  of  addressing  a  stranger  shy  of  his 
best  friends,  his  own  children,  while  Richard  Alanus, 
who  in  the  language  of  slang  had  no  end  of  gall,  was  bare 
of  all  regard,  consideration,  respect  and  common  decency. 
And  Richard  was  a  coward. 

Not  alone  from  what  I  learned  of  him  from  others,  I 
myself  saw  and  knew  the  coward  in  him  all  the  time.  In 
his  room,  tied  down,  beaten  and  beaten,  half  strangled 
and  half  unconscious  yet  as  I  was  from  his  drug,  I  saw  it. 
On  the  mountain,  trying  to  shoot,  the  coward  showed  so 
plain  in  him,  in  all  consciousness  of  my  danger  a  great 
contempt  for  him  arose  in  me.  At  my  father's  funeral 
where  we  met  again,  how  his  lips  grew  white  and  he 
slunk  away  and  fled  the  town ! 

And  again,  the  last  time,  a  couple  of  days  after,  on  the 
old  North  road  winding  up  the  defile  above  Fountain 
Head,  where  I  had  followed  him,  after  I  had  learned 
from  Cora  what  he  had  done  to  little  Harry,  she  threaten- 

ii6 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ing  me  with  like  treatment  if  ever  I  came  in  his  power, 
speaking  the  truth  as  well  she  knew,  where  I  had  fol- 
lowed him  and  met  him,  not  so  far  from  the  place 
where  he  had  wanted  to  kill  me.  Coming  round  the 
sharp  corner  of  the  bare  cliff  with  the  lone  tree  near  the 
top,  he  jumped  behind  the  rocks  and  shot  at  me!  And 
when  I  fell,  pretending  to  be  hit,  and  lay  as  if  dead 
amongst  the  loose  rocks  and  tall  weeds  and  brush  at  the 
side  below  the  road,  and  he  had  fired  at  me  again  and 
again  and  when  I  did  not  move,  and  he  had  loaded  his 
gun  anew,  and  came  crouching,  double-bent  to  crawl  away 
behind  the  rocks  by  me,  with  shaking  gun  pointed,  the 
eyes  turned  to  look,  and  he  saw  me.  There  was  abject 
fear  in  his  face,  and  a  death-start  wlicn  his  eyes  met  mine, 
that  one  instant  before  T  fired  I 

If  I  had  not  killed  him? 

To  my  father  no  further  harm  could  come. 

But  my  little  brother ! 

Not  alone  the  inhuman  treatment  already  begun,  tor- 
turing the  little  defenceless  crippled  child  be  continued, 
but  every  vice,  every  vileness  would  by  Richard  Alanus 
be  taught,  instilled.  Cora  herself  was  not  safe  from  him 
as  an  object  for  practicing  corruption.  Only  being  his 
offspring,  as  cruel,  mean,  malevolent,  but  far  more  crattv 
and  utterly  fearless,  she  would  always  be  more  than  his 
equal. 

And  I? 

He  had  tried  to  kill  me,  had  he  not  ?  More  than  once ! 
If  too  much  afraid  to  try  again  himself,  he  could  hire 
others  to  do  it  as  he  did  before.  It  was  not  in  my 
intentions,  but  when  I  jumped  up  from  amongst  the  rock 
and  dry  weeds  and  brush,  and  saw  him  dead  at  my  feet 
I  felt  the  ban  of  evil  over  my  life  was  broken. 

And  oh,  the  bounding  of  the  heart!  Freed!  De- 
livered ! 


117 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

August. 

This  morning  I  walked  along  the  waterfront,  north 
and  south.  The  most  of  it  is  new,  but  much  of  it  still 
looks  familiar  to  me.  Plenty  of  small  buildings  are  left 
on  the  streets.  The  lower  stories  are  occupied  chiefly  by 
cheap  eating  houses  and  drinking  houses,  with  bright- 
painted  fronts  and  gilding  and  cut  glass.  The  upper 
stories,  if  there  are  any,  are  quite  a  few  unoccupied. 

I  did  not  go  up  any  of  the  side-streets,  but  kept  mainly 
along  the  waterfront.  The  warehouses,  I  fancied,  looked 
much  like  the  old  ones.  The  wharves  are  called  piers 
now,  and  they  are,  almost  all  of  them  enclosed  and  roofed 
over,  and  the  spaces  in  between  are  fenced  in  with  high 
board  fences,  so  that  one  can  hardly  get  even  a  glimpse 
of  the  bay  and  harbor  anywhere,  at  least  from  the  water- 
front street. 

Pretty  well  up  on  the  nearest  hill  I  saw  one  house 
which  I  remember  to  have  seen  in  former  days.  All  the 
rest  looked  entirely  strange  to  me,  and  it  felt  almost  like 
coming  home  to  get  back  to  the  Ferry  Station. 

Bootblack-boys  there  are  far  less  than  formerly,  I  see. 
The  very  many  stationary  bootblack-stands  must  spoil  the 
business  for  the  wandering  bootblack  boys,  of  whom  in 
fact  I  saw  but  two.  Italians,  I  took  them  to  be.  They 
were  in  front  of  a  low-class  beer-saloon,  coaxing  a 
couple  of  drunken  sailors  to  have  their  shoes  shined.  It 
made  me  think  of  the  first  nickel  I  earned  by  blacking 
the  shoes  of  a  drunken  sailor  in  the  doorway  of,  for 
all  I  know,  this  very  saloon. 

I  spoke  to  a  man  working  at  a  very  stylish  bootblack- 
stand  on  the  next  street-corner,  telling  him  I  was  think- 
ing of  buying  such  a  stand  or  fitting  one  up,  and  asking 
him  about  the  business.  T  could  not  at  all  make  out  his 
replies.  T  believe  he  tried  to  speak  English.  I  think  it 
must  be  a  good  business,  or  there  would  not  be  so  many 
in   it.     But   some   employments   must  be   overdone,   for 

ii8 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

instance  the  fruit  business.  Fruitsellers  are  very  numer- 
ous. Besides  the  regular  fruit  stores,  every  hundred 
yards  or  so,  wagons  loaded  with  fruit  stand  on  every 
street.  And  fruit  stands  round  the  Ferries  are  impro- 
vised at  all  points.  A  good  many  of  these  fruitsellers  are 
apparently  Italians.  But  they  are  of  all  nationalities,  I 
suppose.  Some  have  a  little  push-cart  with  a  top  for  the 
display.  Others  have  but  a  board  on  two  wooden  horses 
for  a  stand ;  or  their  goods  are  merely  spread  out  on  the 
wharf-stringer  or  on  the  bottom  of  an  upturned,  empty 
barrel. 

One  little  Italian  woman  I  spoke  to.  I  had  noticed 
her  being  all  the  time  very  busy  and  fussy  about  her 
little  cart  with  boxes  and  papers  and  piles  of  fruits  and 
nuts,  rearranging  and  building  them  up  into  different 
pyramids  continually.  As  long  as  she  thought  I  meant 
to  buy  something  she  spoke  very  pleasantly  and  very 
good  English.  Business  was  not  very  good,  she  said; 
the  profits  were  rather  large,  but  the  fruits  were  such 
a  trouble,  they  spoilt  so  quickly,  and  the  competition  was 
too  great.  When  she  came  to  see  that  I  did  not  mean  to 
buy  anything  her  tone  and  manner  changed,  and  even 
lier  English,  for  the  worse.  When  she  went  out,  she 
said,  she  would  always  put  some  money  in  her  pocket 
for  spending,  be  it  ever  so  little.  That  was  the  way  to 
do !  And  then  she  would  buy  and  be  done  and  not  keep 
people  from  tending  to  their  business.  Some  people 
talked  too  much  with  their  mouth. 

And  truly,  I  had  not  spoken  ten  words,  she  had  done 
all  the  talking.  However,  I  gave  her  a  nickel  for  a  paper 
of  peaches  and  went  away  to  where  I  had  seen  a  little 
newsboy  who  had  but  one  leg.  The  other  was  off  below 
the  knee,  and  he  had  a  wooden  stick  for  the  leg,  just  like 
little  Harry.  He  saw  me  looking  at  him  and  came  stilting 
over  to  where  I  stood.  I  asked  him  would  he  give  me  a 
newspaper  for  the  fruit.    I  don't  really  know  why  I  did  it. 

119 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

I  did  not  want  the  paper.  He  hesitated  and  then  handed 
nie  a  paper  and  took  the  peaches,  when  another,  bigger 
newsboy  came  rushing  up  and  shouted,  kicked  and  struck 
at  the  httle  fellow,  cursing  him  with  the  foulest  names 
so  that  I  interfered.  It  seemed  the  smaller  one  was 
selling  newspapers  for  the  bigger  boy  on  commission,  or 
whatever  the  arrangement  was  between  them.  I  be- 
lieve they  vv  ere  brothers.  I  handed  back  the  newspaper  im- 
mediately, saying  I  had  never  meant  to  keep  it.  The  little 
one  reminded  me  of  Harry  very  much,  but  he  had  a 
crutch. 

Many  men  were  selling  newspapers.  And  one  u'oman, 
I  saw.  Some  of  the  men  are  armless  or  legless,  or  with 
one  arm  off,  or  blind,  or  otherwise  maimed,  till,  to  draw 
it  strongly,  it  seems  as  though  half  the  cripples  of  the 
town  were  selling  newspapers  at  the  Ferry  Station.  And 
it  is  perhaps  more  painful  to  see  so  many  able-bodied 
men  selling  newspapers  for  a  living.  One  I  had  noticed 
yesterday  as  being  very  active,  lugging  an  immense  arm- 
ful of  newspapers,  hustling,  going  long  distances  in  all 
directions  to  wait  on  people;  and  always  touching  his 
h.at  to  anybody  that  bought  a  newspaper  from  him. 

Formerly  one  would  not  have  seen  any  woman  or  any 
grown-up,  able-bodied  man  here  selling  newspapers  that 
way ;  and  one  would  never  have  seen  anybody  here  touch 
the  hat  to  anybody  for  buying  something  from  him. 

I  spoke  to  the  man.  He  was  an  Irishman.  I  told  him 
1  had  come  to  town  from  the  country  and  had  some 
thought  of  trying  to  make  a  living  by  selling  newspapers. 
And  I  asked  his  opinion  of  the  project,  which  he  gave 
most  openly  and  friendly.  He  said  it  was  a  good  busi- 
ness. The  competition,  of  course  was  great;  the  boys 
being  more  nimble  caught  the  customers  before  a  man 
could  rccich  them ;  on  the  fly  so  to  say.  And  really  very 
few  boys,  and  girls  too,  were  selling  newspapers  from 
necessity  as  a  man  or  a  woman  would  be.     But,  after 

I20 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

all  a  ])oy  had  as  good  a  right  to  sell  a  newspaper  as  a 
man. 

He  was  so  talkative  and  grew  so  communicative,  en- 
tering into  his  own  personal  affairs  that  he  quite  neglected 
his  business  in  telling  how  it  should  be  carried  on,  till 
some,  probably  daily  customers  signaled  to  him  from 
afar,  and  he  went  to  serve  them,  calling  to  me  that  he 
would  see  me  again  some  time. 

August. 

I  walked  all  around  the  city-waterfront  to-day  from 
one  end  to  the  other.  I  came  to  where  the  old  wharf 
used  to  be.  I  stood  and  looked  and  looked  and  tried 
to  locate  it,  but  I  could  not.  Every  sign  of  it  is  gone. 
Where  once  it  stood  in  the  water  of  the  bay,  now  is 
solid  ground.  There  are  streets,  blocks  of  buildings,  rail- 
way-tracks with  freight-cars  standing  on  them,  grain- 
sheds,  oil  tanks,  manufacturing  plants,  more  railway- 
tracks  and  sheds.  Where  the  old  wharf  must  have  been, 
everything  is  totally  changed.  Even  the  farther  hills 
of  the  city  with  streets  cut  through,  lots  graded  down 
and  houses  built,  have  lost  their  shape. 

I  walked  the  streets  in  all  directions,  not  a  single 
mark  of  the  old  place  could  I  find.  Yes,  one!  The  old 
brewery!  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  old  brewery!  It  seems  to 
be  some  sort  of  storage-place  now.  This  being  Sunday, 
it  was  closed.  Alongside  are  a  few  small  dwellings,  a 
box-factory,  oil-works  and  a  vinegar-still. 

During  those  last  months  before  my  father  died  I 
u.-.ed  to  have  little  Harry  go  with  me  on  my  afternoon 
tramps,  and  one  time  also  my  father  came  to  look  at  the 
old  place,  and  the  shoreline  of  the  bay  was  yet  to  be 
traced.  Now  all  that  has  been  extinguished  by  the  filling- 
iu  round-about  where  extended  the  water.  The  beach 
where  tlie  boys  used  to  go  in  swimming,  the  sandy 
-tretch  with  the  knoll  at  the  point  where  my  father  used 
to  meet  me,  the  road  at  the  water's  edge  where  the  stable 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

stood,  where  every  day  I  went  for  fresh  water,  it  is  as 
though  all  those  things  never  had  been. 

To  see  the  old  brewery  made  me  call  up  Mahon's 
picture.  The  big,  handsome,  whole-souled  boy  with  the 
round,  red  cheeks  and  shining  white  teeth  and  the  bright, 
blue  eyes  with  the  long,  black  lashs !  The  earlier  picture 
of  him  in  my  mind  shows  a  more  laughing  face,  laughing 
even  at  his  own  mishaps.  The  later  picture,  somewhat 
obscures  the  first  one.  But  the  face  is  always  bright, 
and  the  big  fellow  is  always  the  little  boys'  friend; 
never  to  hit  or  haze  one  smaller  than  himself,  always 
ready  to  do  any  kindness  asked.    But  you  had  to  ask. 

He  must  be  thirty  years  old  now  or  thirty-one  if  he  is 
living.    I  cannot  think  that  he  is  dead. 

I  walked  over  to  the  edge  of  the  sea-wall  where  the 
filling  forms  a  quay,  and  then  I  walked  out  the  several 
wharves  that  are  as  yet  unenclosed.  The  longest  one  of 
them  runs,  I  fancied,  somewhat  in  the  same  direction  that 
our  old  wharf  did,  only  farther  out.  And  as  I  stood  at 
the  end  of  it  there  came  to  me  a  feeling  as  though  after 
all  nothing  was  changed.  The  raw  day,  the  sharp  air, 
the  cold  wind,  damp  with  fog,  the  tide  below  rushing  by, 
and  the  shipping,  the  big  ferry-boats,  and  beyond  the 
water  the  bare,  dull  hills,  it  all  was  the  same  as  in  years 
past.  And  least  changed  of  all  I  myself,  the  same  that  I 
always  was. 

I  spoke  to  a  man  sitting  by  himself  on  the  wharf- 
stringer  at  one  side,  a  line  in  his  hand,  idly  fishing.  There 
(lid  not  seem  to  be  much  fishing  going  on,  I  told  him,  in 
former  years  there  been  more,  I  thought. 

So  there  had,  he  answered,  so  there  had,  but  it  had 
been  spoiled;  some  people  would  still  go  out  on  the 
wharves  to  fish  when  there  was  a  little  run,  but  nothing 
like  the  crowds  there  used  to  be.  The  fish  had  been 
driven  away  by  the  filling  in.  The  fishermen  now  went 
outside  the  Heads  to  fish:  for  crabs  along  the  shore  just 

122 


CHROXICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

outside  the  breakers,  for  fish  farther  out  and  in  steam- 
craft. 

Finding  him  posted  and  wilHng  to  talk,  if  in  a  grum- 
bHng  way,  I  asked  him  if  there  had  not  been  somewhere 
thereabout  in  former  years  a  long  spile-bridge,  or  wharf. 

Oh,  yes,  he  said,  but  it  was  all  gone  now;  the  place 
had  been  all  filled  in.  Some  years  ago,  at  very  low  tide 
some  of  the  old  piling  of  the  old  wharf  had  yet  shown 
above  the  rock  and  dirt  of  the  filling;  after  that  it  had 
all  been  covered;  the  last  remnant  of  the  old  wharf,  the 
outermost  end  of  it  had  been  located  about  where  now 
a  railway-shed,  he  indicated,  terminated.  It  had  stood 
there  in  the  water  for  years  with  part  of  an  old  shed  on 
it,  slowly  rotting  away,  all  abandoned  and  quite  cut  oflF 
from  shore.  One  stormy  night  a  good  many  seasons 
ago  it  had  broken  loose  and  been  washed  away  and  carried 
out  to  sea  by  the  tide. 

The  man  as  he  spoke  seemed  to  look  at  me  in  a  pecu- 
liar vv-ay  as  if  lie  were  trying  to  remember  me.  I  began 
myself  to  think  T  had  met  him  before.  Could  he  have 
seen  me  in  prison  ?  Imagination  !  Once  before,  the  first 
day  here,  I  fancied  that  a  woman  was  looking  at  me  as 
if  she  had  seen  me  in  prison  and  was  recognizing  me. 

Away  with  such  delusions ! 

Oh!  I  do  struggle  and  battle,  but  every  day  new, 
darkening  thoughts  come  trying  to  drag  me  to  despair. 

The  old  shed  on  the  wreck  of  the  old  wharf  drifting 
out  to  sea  with  the  rushing  tide  in  the  black  of  the  night ! 

Image  of  my  life! 

Why  live?  For  what?  Is  not  my  life  past?  Make 
an  end !     Drift  with  the  tide  into  the  ocean  of  eternity ! 

My  only  hope  my  brother ! 

Evening. 

I  went  out  again,  went  to  see  the  house,  my  father's 
house,  the  old  warehouse  where  we  lived.  I  could  not 
help  it,  I  had  to  go.     I  found  the  place  easily  enough. 

1^3 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

The  street  in  a  manner  looks  as  it  did.  The  houses  are 
new  and  different,  nearly  all  of  them,  but  the  description 
of  business  carried  on  there  is  pretty  much  unchanged. 
I  was  prepared  for  our  house  looking  very  different,  since 
some  time  ago  I  read  in  prison,  coming  accidentally  upon 
an  item  about  it  in  an  old  newspaper,  that  the  old  building 
was  to  be  raised  by  hydraulic  machinery  and  built-under 
and  otherwise  altered.  It  is  now  five  stories  high  and 
all  occupied  by  professional  people. 

Many  fancy  trimmings  have  been  put  on  the  front. 
But  in  spite  of  that  and  the  absence  of  iron  shutters,  the 
windows  of  the  two  upper  stories  wore  a  well-known 
look.  Above  in  the  top  story  there  were  the  four  win- 
dows of  our  large,  living  room  with  the  two  windows  of 
Cora's  room  adjoining;  in  the  story  below  this  the  four 
windows  of  the  bank  and  the  two  windows  of  my  father's 
private  office,  where  I  always  found  him  awaiting  our  re- 
turn, when  with  little  Harry  I  came  back  from  our  after- 
noon's roaming,  that  last  season. 

I  seem  to  remember  each  day  of  that  season.  It  was 
quite  wet,  or  rather,  damp.  There  were  no  more  than 
one  or  two  regvilar,  heavy  rain-storms,  nor  any  continu- 
ously heavy  rains  but  weeks  of  cloudy  skies  with  some 
very  few  fine  days  in  between  and  great  many  of  fog; 
not  the  driving  sea-fog  of  the  dry  season  but  the  still 
fogs  from  the  inland  valleys,  turning,  may  be  into  a 
drizzle  nights.  But  if  constantly  damp  and  moist,  it  was 
never  wet  enough  to  keep  us  from  going  out. 

And  where  did  we  not  go?  To  the  nearer  hill  tops 
where  we  could  look  down  on  the  flat  roofs  of  the  low^er 
town  and  on  the  bay  with  the  ferry-boats  and  the  other 
craft  moving  on  the  pale  surface.  Sometimes  we  w^ent 
through  the  Chinese  streets ;  sometimes  along  the  water- 
front to  see  the  shipping  and  talk  of  my  shipboy  life; 
out  to  where  the  old  w^harf  was  now  breaking  up,  where 

124 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

I  showed  Harry  the  shed  I  had  slept  in  when  his  father 

found  me. 

And  when  it  now  grew  dusk,  and  we  returned  home- 
ward through  the  murky  streets,  I  for  an  excuse  to  my- 
self as  much  as  to  him,  protesting  that  the  little  one  leg 
must  be  tired,  and  taking  him  up  carried  him,  sitting  on 
my  arms  in  front  of  me,  his  face  to  mine,  his  arms  clasp- 
ing my  neck,  his  wooden  leg-stick  and  his  foot  sticking  out 
behind.  Round  the  last  corner  we  v.'ould  come  in  sight 
of  our  house,  grimly  dark  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the 
night,  and  would  see  the  lighted-up  windows  of  my 
father's  room,  and  knew  there  he  was  waiting  for  us, 
sitting  at  his  desk  or  in  the  arm  cliair  by  the  fireplace 
waiting  for  me— the  thrust  of  joy  in  my  heart!  The 
gratefulness !  The  exquisite  delight  of  all  the  sensations 
awakened  by  the  thought  of  him  !     My  happiness  ! 


And  the  sweet  comfort  of  the  place  in  the  shaded  light 
of  the  lamps  and  the  quiet  glow  of  the  fire  in  the  hearth! 
And  he  turning  to  me !    His  smile !    The  love  in  his  eyes ! 

He  would  call  me  son,  as  in  playfulness  And  he 
could  not  hide  from  me  the  tender  satisfaction  he  felt, 
though  I  knew  not  why,  in  but  calling  me  so  as  if  in  play. 
And  the  struggle  not  to  give  way  too  much  to  his  fond- 
ness of  heart ! 

August. 

I  am  like  one  adrift.  It  is  that  that  gives  me  such  a 
longing  to  be  back  in  prison  where  everything  was  shaped 
to  order,  where  every  hour  had  its  certain  work,  where  I 
had  no  need  to  plan  and  plot,  nor  care  how  to  provide  for 
the  next  day,  had  only  to  do  every  day  my  allotted  work, 

my  duty  ? 

And  were  not  my  ways  well  smoothed  for  me,  es- 
pcciallv  after  the  new  Director  came  into  office?     Was 

125 


CHRONJCLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

I  not  well  treated,  favored  beyond  example,  given  in- 
struments, encouraged  to  practise,  brought  to  play  the 
organ  in  chapel,  given  books  to  read,  detailed  for  library 
work,  persuaded  to  wiite,  put  to  do  garden-work  and 
granted  every  privilege,  often  permitted  great  freedom 
of  intercourse  with  Ullard,  my  instructor,  in  all  kinds 
of  gardening  up  to  the  day  of  his  death! 

To  Ullard  more  yet  than  to  the  Director  do  I  owe  my 
salvation. 

What  contrast !  He,  not  only  a  criminal,  but  master  of 
all  the  vices  of  men,  as  he  styled  himself !  And  to  me  a 
saviour !  And  why  to  me?  Because  I  was  so  young,  one 
might  say,  a  child? 

No!  He  had  not  that  special  fondness  for  children 
that  some  men  have,  criminals  as  well  as  others.  He 
rather  had  an  aversion  to  them,  claiming  they  were  too 
much  like  him,  for  him  to  Uke ;  asserting  that  it  was 
as  unnatural  for  children  to  be  fond  of  children  as  for 
animals  to  be  fond  of  other  animals ;  even  insisting  that 
no  healthy,  well  to  do  child  would  be  fond  of  anybody, 
not  excepting  its  ovv^i  mother;  but  that  where  some 
child  really  loved  some  one,  something  was  wrong  with  it, 
either  it  was  ill,  consumptive,  starved,  or  unhappy,  mal- 
treated, or  of  an  abnormally  developed  sexual  instinct. 

What  all  have  I  not  heard  him  say  against  children? 
He  called  them  criminals,  savages,  beasts  of  prey,  per- 
petrators of  every  kind  of  cruelty,  addicted  to  every 
vice !  And  ridiculing  the  saying  that  of  such  is  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven,  he  turned  it  into:  of  such  is  the  empire 

of  hell! 

No!  His  was  not  an  affectionate  nature  at  all.  He 
did  not  want  to  save  me  because  he  was  fond  of  me  and 
wanted  me  to  be  fond  of  him.  It  was,  I  conclude,  prin- 
cipally the  interest  he  took  in  this,  his  own  work,  the 
whole  of  it,  like  a  game  he  was  playing  and  while  play- 
ing observing  its  effects  on  me,  on  himself,  on  all  con- 

126 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ceriied.  It  was  that  that  made  him  take  me  in  charsre ; 
to  let  me  make  clear  to  myself  the  gemiine  stupidity  and 
misery  of  a  life  of  crime ;  to  explain  and  bring  to  my  con- 
sciousness the  actual  state  of  the  prison-world  we  lived 
in,  so  as  to  make  me  understand  my  surroundings,  that  I 
should  be  able  to  withstand  their  deadly  influence ;  con- 
vince me  of  its  possibility  as  of  its  utmost  necessity,  and 
teach  me,  swear  me  to  total  abnegation  and  renunciation ! 

No,  indeed !  He  was  not  tenderly  fond  of  me,  nor 
anything  like  it.  But  in  a  way  he  liked  me,  I  believe. 
He  liked  me  as  one  he  was  doing  right  by,  bringing 
out'to  his  own  perception  and  appreciation,  his  own  feel- 
ing what  was  left  in  him  of  manliness,  helpfulness  and 
good.  And  if  lie  did  not  want  me  to  be  fond  of  him,  he 
did  let  me  like  liim.  let  me  think,  even  if  it  was  not  true, 
and  go  on  thinking,  that  he  cared  for  my  attachment. 

And  this  was  to  me  the  greatest  good  that  he  con- 
ferred. This  together  with  the  hope  of  being  pardoned 
some  time  which  he  never  allowed  me  to  lose,  was  really 
my  salvation.  For  I  had  to  like  and  believe  in  some  one, 
and  to  hope  for  something.  If  he  had  not  suffered  me 
to  attach  myself  to  him,  if  he  had  destroyed  my  faith 
in  him  and  all  hope  of  deliverance  from  imprisonment,  as 
he  took  away  my  belief  in  pretty  nearly  everything  else, 
all  his  teaching  and  telling,  all  his  other  treatment  of  me 
would  have  been  vain. 

Another  factor  in  him  was,  no  doubt,  his  vanity,  the 
human  vanity  common  to  us  all,  that  most  potent  agency 
within  us,  of  which  he  himself  claimed  for  his  own  people 
of  his  own  American  country  the  possession  of  the  largest 
share  of  any.  It  flattered  him  as  it,  I  dare  say,  would 
flatter  anybody,  to  be  made  out  such  a  superior  being, 
seeing  how  I  clung  to  him,  believed  in  him  and  took 
most  if  not  all  of  his  words  as  the  essence  of  all  that  is 
true  and  wise.  For  if  at  times  I  could  not  help  suspect- 
ing that  we  felt  different  on  many  and  very  important 

T27 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

points,  observing  the  many  inconsistencies  of  his  pro- 
fessed opinions,  this  too  was  only  part  of  his  plan  to 
make  me  independent  in  my  reasoning.  I  never  contra- 
dicted him  and  thus  oftener  made  him  contradict  himself, 
which  he  would  unfailingly  do  if  left  alone,  going  on 
arguing  with  himself  till  he  had  gone  clean  half  round 
the  compass  and  at  last  asserted  what  he  had  started  in 
to  disprove. 

For  these  occasions,  in  fact  for  any  occas-on,  he  had 
the  saying  that  everything  that  is  true  is  at  the  same  time 
not  true,  which  then  I  thought  a  wonderfully  deep  ex- 
pression but  afterwards  came  to  take  for  but  another 
way  of  saying  that  circumstances  alter  cases. 

Of  such  sayings  of  his  the  majority  were  only  com- 
monplace-ones, worded  to  sound  paradoxical  and  daz- 
zle me,  which  they  certainly  did  and  helped  to  increase 
his  influence  over  me.  But  that  influnce  he  never  used 
but  for  my  good.  I  know  now  that  I  overrated  him,  that 
I  gave  him  credit  for  much  that  others  prepared  the 
soil  for  in  me  and  sowed  the  seeds  of,  everyone  who 
taught  me  morals  and  manners,  gave  me  principles  and 
taught  me  to  work  and  to  think.  Perhaps  I  underrate 
him  now  as  much  as  I  overrated  him  before. 

I  see  him  sitting  before  me,  the  long  Yankee  figure 
bent,  leaning  back,  one  foot  lifted  up  against  the  bunk, 
his  long,  thin  legs  thrown  one  over  the  other  and  twisted 
round  till  they  looked  as  if  nothing  could  ever  again 
untwist  them ;  his  bony  arms  hugging  his  knees,  his  cold, 
grayish  eyes  watching  me,  his  ever  open  mouth  drawn 
down  sideways  in  constant  readiness  to  run  over  with 
arguments,  experiences,  philosophizings,  lecturings,  all 
shaped  in  phrases,  which  just  as  often  he  had  somewhere 
heard  or  read  as  by  himself  constructed. 

I  suppose  the  tiresomeness  of  it  all  would  now  about 
overwhelm  me.  Yet  some  of  his  coimsel  seex-ns  to  be  al- 
ways with  me.     Mv  very  giving  way  these  past  days  to 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  A  LAN  US 

recollections,  recalls  the  time  I  told  Ullard  I  was  at  the 
Director's  suggestion  noting  down  some  happenings  of 
my  early  life,  and  he  advised  me  not  to  give  way  to  such 
reminiscences  too  much  but  to  strive  to  control  a  certain 
emotional  tendency  within  myself. 

His  death  I  like  to  think  of.  Had  I  ever  had  any 
shrinking  from  the  consideration  of  death,  puch  shrink- 
ing must  by  his  death  have  been  taken  away  from  me. 
No  man  after  his  full  day's  work  was  done,  can  lay  him- 
self down  to  peaceful  rest  and  to  sleep  with  more  con- 
tent and  ease  than  he  laid  himself  down  to  die.  And 
he  left  me  able  to  care  for  myself. 

I  have  an  aim  and  I  live  to  accomplish  it.  I  want 
to  rind  my  brother.  He  may  be  near  here.  He  may  be 
anywhere.  Most  likely  he  is  in  England.  His  mother 
wanted  to  live  in  England,  I  always  understood.  She 
was  partly  of  English  descent.  She  was  about  to  start 
for  England  with  Cora  and  Harry  at  the  time  I  went  to 
prison,  that  is  all  I  know. 

There  must  be  some  way  of  finding  out  where  she 
and  the  children  are.  If  I  had  plenty  of  money,  I  sup- 
pose I  should  have  to  do  nothing  but  apply  to  some 
detective  agency.  But  all  that  is  out  of  the  question;  no 
less  than  the  use  of  any  public  newspaper.  However, 
the  property  my  father  left  when  he  died  must  have  been 
large  and  valuable.  I  know  his  will,  the  only  will  he 
ever  made,  the  old  will  he  had  made  the  day  he  married, 
gave  everything  to  his  wife.  But  it  must  have  been 
settled  in  some  court  of  law.  At  least  I  think  so;  and 
there  must  be  some  record  of  such  proceedings  some- 
where, records  that  somebody  should  be  able  to  get  at. 
Only  I  don't  know  just  how;  I  know  so  little  of  such 
matters.  And  I  am  not  acquainted  and  can  not  move 
freely.     I  must  have  time  and  opportunity. 

There  must  be  people  here,  too,  who  knew  my  father 
and  were  enough  interested  in  him  and  his  to  follow 

129 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  movements  of  his  widow  and  children.  Though  I 
don't  know  about  that.  His  circle  of  personal  acquaint- 
ances was  small  and  he  was  nowise  a  member  of  what  is 
called  Society.  Nor  was  his  wife  after  she  had  left  him 
recognized  by  that  same  Society. 

Mrs.  Sullivan  would  know ;  but  where  is  she  ?  Or 
Smith  would  know,  our  head  clerk.  Perhaps  I  could  find 
out  where  he  is.  But  again,  I  must  have  a  little  time, 
if  only  to  obtain  a  directory  and  look  up  names. 

In  the  very  first  place,  I  must  find  something  to  do  to 
make  my  living,  to  save  a  little  money  too,  at  the  same 
time.  And  I  also  must  make  myself  acquainted  again 
with  the  city  and  its  people  and  life. 

Thus  there  is  the  first  question:  What  to  do  for  a 
living.  That  was  talked  over  with  the  Director.  Only 
1  could  never  tell  him  how  much  my  hope  of  finding 
my  brother  was  to  me,  and  everything  else  as  of  no  con- 
sequence except  as  bearing  on  that,  misleading  him  to 
a  great  extent. 

I  should  like  best  to  teach  music,  give  lessons  on  any 
of  the  instruments  I  play.  I  am  well  satisfied  that  I 
should  soon  qualify  myself  for  that,  and  it  might  early 
bring  me  in  contact  with  people  from  whom  I  could 
hear  of  Harry.  But  how  can  I  risk  going  into  that?  I 
should  have  to  hire  suitable  rooms,  rent  an  expensive 
piano,  buy  some  fine  clothes.     And  then,  what? 

Evening. 

Funny  that  it  should  have  cost  me  an  exertion  to  leave 
the  waterfront,  to  go  away  from  the  water  up  the 
streets  into  the  town!  But  I  did  actually  have  to  force 
myself  to  it.  Which  means,  to  be  sure,  no  more  than  that 
1  boarded  a  street-car  and  rode  out  into  the  unknown 
to  the  end  of  the  line,  where  I  walked  round  a  little 
and  changing  my  seat  to  the  other  side  of  the  car,  rode 
back  again  to  the  Ferry  Station,  where  I  boarded  a  car  of 

130 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

another    line    and    repeated    the    action.     And    so   on    all 
day. 

Almost  the  whole  town  passes  in  review  that  way. 
What  a  lot  of  houses  I 

From  the  crown  of  the  hills  to  look  down  on  all  the 
lionses  gave  me  a  peculiar  feeling.  Who  lives  in  all  these 
houses?  What  are  all  these  dwellers?  What  do  they 
do?  How  do  they  live?  Why  are  they  so  crowded  to- 
gether?" It  put  me  in  mind  of  the  prison.  It  is  like  a 
prison. 

Down  town  are  many  magnificent  buildings.  Every 
where  all  seem  new.  And  again,  but  I  can  not  say  why, 
the  new  look  like  the  old.  Of  the  dwelling-houses  far- 
ther out,  the  very  newest  built  look  somehow  as  though 
they  were  nothing  but  old,  well-known  dwellings,  made 
over  with  new  fronts. 

The  main  business  streets  are  full  of  life,  and  if  they 
do  not  appear  to  me  any  livelier  than  formerly,  it  is.  I 
judge,  because  I  was  so  much  smaller.  One  half  of  the 
life  and  much  more  than  one  half  of  all  the  noise  of  the 
streets  is  made  by  the  street-cars.  They  all  converge 
at  the  Ferry  Depot.  There  is  the  starting  point  or  end- 
ing point  of  all  of  them,  direct  or  indirect,  indicating 
at  once  how  very  much  as  if  on  an  island  this  town  is 
built.  And  the  other  ending  of  niost  of  the  car  lines  is 
at  the  Park.     I  brought  up  at  the  Park,  too. 

It  was  noon-time  and  I  went  into  a  small  cooking  shop, 
where  I  got  what  the  man  of  the  place  called  a  regular 
dinner  for  fifteen  cents.  There  was  only  this  one  man 
in  the  place,  acting  as  cook  and  waiter,  and  being,  I  took 
it,  the  proprietor.  And  I  w^as  the  only  customer.  When 
I  entered  the  man  was  poring  over  a  book,  which  looked 
like  a  ledger  lying  on  a  little  desk  at  the  end  of  the 
counter,  and  to  which  he  returned  as  soon  as  he  had 
served  my  meal,  and  kept  on  poring  over  it,  till  I  had 
finished  eating  and  stepped  up  to  the  counter  to  pay. 

13^ 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

As  he  looked  quite  disturbed,  perspiring  indeed,  I  asked 
him  what  was  wrong.     He  replied  with  an  oath  that  the 
accounts  would  not  balance,  and  though  it  sounded  rather 
queer  for  such  an  insignificant  business,  I  found  that  he 
kept  a  full  set  of  double-entry  books.     I  told  him  if  I 
could  assist  him,   I   should  be  glad  to  do  so,  being  ac- 
quainted with  bookkeeping.     I  suppose  the  man's  vanity 
to  show  his  books  had  more  to  do  with  his  accepting  my 
offer  than  any  wish  to  be  hel]>ed  out  of  his  difficulty. 
He  took  me  behind  his  counter  to  his  ledger,  where  I 
immediately  detected  an  ordinary  and  very  conspicuous 
addition  error.     But  when  I  showed  it  to  him,  I  saw  he 
did  not  like  it.     So  to  soothe  his  feelings,  I  said  this  was 
just  one  of  those  mistakes  which  the  best  bookkeepers 
make.     hx\(\  I  went  on  to  tell  him  of  some  absurd  mis- 
takes I  knew  or  had  heard  of  being  made  by  expert  book- 
keepers, when  he  interrupted  me,  sneering;  he  supposed 
I  considered  myself  an  expert!     That  was  not  at  all  the 
error !     And  he  finished  by  ordering  me  from  behind  the 
counter,  where  I  had  no  business,  and  out  of  his  place. 

At  the  moment  I  felt  only  surprised,  but  presently  I 
began  to  feel  vexed.  Turning  into  the  Park,  I  took  the 
first  path  leading  into  denser  groves,  there  in  reclusion  to 
compose  myself  and  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter 
with  me. 

It  could  not  be  the  surliness  of  the  man  that  hurt  me. 
It  must  be  my  defenceless  position,  that  is,  my  conscious- 
ness of  it.  Suppose,  I  had  retorted  as  one  might  say  I 
oueht  to  have  done,  a  row  would  have  followed,  which 
the  aggressiveness  of  the  man  made  quite  probable,  and  T 
.«ihould  have  had  to  pocket  worse  humiliation  or  risked 
being  arrested.  And  then  the  jailbird  would  have  stood 
discovered.  After  awhile,  however,  I  found  that  this 
was  not  so  much  the  true  cause  of  my  mortification  as 
that  I  felt  vexed  at  myself.  What  business  had  I  to  offer 
my  assistance  to  the  man  when  even  at  the  time  I  com- 

132 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

prehended  that  he  must  be  a  sort  of  crank  with  his 
double  entry  for  such  a  business.  I  am  always  ready  to 
do  those  things :  trying  to  do  people  favors  which  are  not 
wanted.  And  the  abuse  I  got  was  no  more  than  I 
deserved. 

After  that  I  soon  saw  the  occurrence  in  its  true  comic 
light  and  could  laugh  at  myself. 

That  is  what  I  prize  most  I  think,  that  I  can  see  and 
enjoy  what  is  absurd  even  in  myself. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  prize  still  more  what  Ullard  used 
to  call  my  capacity  for  happiness,  the  gladness  of  life; 
only,  that  such  capacity  to  me  seems  to  include  the 
reverse:  that  such  people  who  feel  greater  joy  also  feel 
greater  grief  and  unhappiness.  I  believe  that  naturally 
I  incline  to  be  light-hearted  and  cheerful,  that  ^  do  possess 
the  faculty,  or  ability  or  power  to  be  happy  with  the  joy 
life  brings.  My  spells  or  turns  of  melancholy,  which 
never  last  long,  seem  to  me  not  part  of  my  nature  at 
all,  but  entirely  foreign  to  me,  only  accidentally  planted 
in  me  or  evolved  by  the  experiences  of  my  life.  At 
other  times,  I  must  admit,  melancholy,  sadness,  however 
short  its  stay  with  me,  however  little  able  to  subdue  for 
any  length  of  time  my  happiness,  still  appears  to  be  the 
true  essence  of  my  life,  of  all  life,  and  the  joy  thereof 
only  passing  by  upboilings  of  animal  spirits.  I  reckon 
finally  it  all  belongs  together.  One  thing  is  sure,  that  I 
have  happy  spirits  as  I  have  health. 

The  shrubs  and  trees  in  the  large  park  are  nearly  all 
evergreens.  The  flowers  are  very  beautiful.  I  walked 
as  far  as  the  children's  play-ground,  where  a  good  many 
women  and  children  were  congregated  in  spite  of  the 
chilliness  of  the  day,  now  at  little  more  than  the  height 
of  the  dry  season,  with  the  fog  driven  in  first-hand  by 
the  trade-winds  from  the  sea. 

As  I  came  to  where  the  goats  and  donkeys  for  the 
children  are  for  hire,  a  little  girl  stepped  out  of  a  donkey- 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

cart  right  in  front  of  me.  She  looked  so  smihng  and 
happy  that  1  could  not  help  asking  her  if  she  had  en- 
joyed her  ride.  She  answered  pleasantly:  "Yes,  sir!" 
And  being  rather  crowded  and  pushed  by  other  children 
and  the  goats  and  donkeys,  she  put  out  her  hand  for  me 
to  take  in  mine,  asking,  ''Won't  you  take  me  to  mother  ?" 
pointing  to  some  women  sitting  on  a  bench,  a  short  dis- 
tance away. 

I  can  not  say  how  much  this  simple  little  act  of  con- 
fidence of  the  little  thmg  pleased  me.  I  took  her  up, 
lifting  her  over  the  fence  of  the  goat-drive  and  brought 
her  through  the  crowd  to  near  where  the  woman  was 
sitting,  when  she  left  me  to  run  to  the  mother,  nodding 
and  calling  out,  "That  man  brought  me  back,"  so  funnily 
proud,  everybody  smiled. 

Such  a  trifle  to  gladden  one's  heart! 

At  one  of  the  nearest  side-entrances  to  the  Park,  I 
took  a  street-car  to  go  out  to  the  beach,  keeping  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Park  all  the  way  out.  I  then  left  the 
car  and  walked  south  along  the  beach  a  short  way.  Had 
the  day  been  fine,  I  doubt  not  but  that  I  should  have 
given  myself  up  to  recollections  of  that  beautiful  day  my 
father  took  me  and  Harry  here,  or  a  little  farther  south. 
But  the  wind  set  me  cowering  in  the  tall  reedy  grass  of 
the  sand-dunes,  edging  the  beach.  A  gentleman  was 
doing  the  same  near  me,  and  we  fell  into  such  a  con- 
versation as  I  suppose  is  commonly  carried  on  in  such 
a  case.  We  told  each  other  that  the  wind  was  not  ao 
high  out  there  as  in  town,  nor  the  fog  so  heavy,  only  half 
veiling  the  horizon  above  the  white  of  the  breakers  and 
leaving  the  rocks  of  Point  San  Pedro  fairly  visible,  re- 
sembling some  lumpy  turret-battleship  in  the  changeful 
haze,  but  that  it  was  windy  and  cold  and  foggy  enough, 
such  as  it  always  was,  the  trouble  with  the  weather  in 
California  being  that  the  air  Vv-as  always  cold  from  the 
cold   sea,   be   the   sunshine   clear   and   burning.     We    re- 

134 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

liuirked  tliat  the  tide  being  high,  tlie  walking  in  the  loose 
sand  at  the  npper  edge  of  the  beach  was  very  tiring. 
We  pointed  out  to  each  other  where  the  Farallones  Is- 
lands would  be  visible  if  it  were  clear  and  we  counted 
the  number  of  sailing  craft,  big  and  small,  with  tugs 
amongst  them  and  steam-coasters  hovering  near  the  har- 
bor's entrance,  partly  discernible  in  the  mist,  also  the 
gasoline  fishing-boats,  keeping  just  outside  the  breakers, 
and  a  large  steamship,  heading  north,  informing  each 
otlier,  too,  that  we  should  not  like  to  be  one  of  the  men  in 
any  one  of  the  small  fishing-boats.  We  also  commented 
on  the  long  stretch  of  sandy  beach  and  found  fault  with  its 
beins",  although  fine,  so  verv  bare,  without  any  seaweed, 
pebbles,  shells,  or  any  such  decorative  articles.  And  we 
deplored  in  unison  tl;at  even  for  bathing,  for  which  it 
would  be  all  the  more  adapted,  it  was  practically  unfit,  as 
was  well  known,  from  the  icy  coldness  of  the  water,  the 
boisterousness  of  the  surf  and  the  irresistibility  of  the 
back-tow.  Then,  all  visible  objects  of  conversation  being 
exhausted,  we  smilingly  parted  and  I,  completely  chilled 
through  started  on  a  brisk  walk  back  through  the  Park  the 
whole  lensfth  to  the  main  entrance,  from  where  I  rode  to 
tlie  Ferry  Station  in  a  street -car  of  a  line  on  the  north 
side  of  the  city,  where  are  most  of  the  best  class  of  private 
residences  of  the  town  to-day.  They  are  to  my  taste  a  lit- 
tle too  shov/y  and  pretentious,  and  the  grounds  likewise. 
"Xot  enough  grouping!"  Ullard  Vvould  say.  There  is  a 
commendable  tendency  however  of  reducing  the  grounds. 
That  is,  the  newer  places  have  less  and  plainer  grounds 
tlian  the  older  ones.  And  the  increase  in  the  value  of  the 
building  lots  has.  I  believe,  less  to  do  with  it  than  the  in- 
crease of  good  taste.  For  assuredly  a  city-residence 
ought  not  to  have  a  park  surrounding  it  like  a  country- 
manor,  nor  a  garden  like  a  village-dwelling,  nor  even 
shrubbery,  which  may  be  permitted  at  a  suburban  place. 
The  flowers  are  magnificently  beautiful  everywhere. 

135 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

1  am  still  thinking  of  that  little  girl.  How  confidingly 
she  put  her  hand  into  mine!  Her  eyes  reminded  me  of 
Harry's:  a  little  deep-set  and  of  the  same  pure  blue. 

August. 

I  should  like  to  stay  here  in  this  house.  My  room  just 
suits  me.  It  is  sunny  and  lively  with  the  life  outside 
from  an  hour  before  sunrise  till  after  midnight.  I  seem 
to  like  the  noise  and  somehow  it  feels  natural  for  me 
to  be  near  the  waterfront.  But  I  mu.st  live  in  a  cheaper 
way.     I  must  look  for  other  lodgings. 

Undecided !  Restless  !  Unsettled !  Sometimes  I  think 
I  shall  henceforth  be  that  all  my  life.  Every  day  toward 
nightfall  comes  to  me  the  longing  to  be  back  in  prison. 
There  are  times  when  I  feel  as  if  really  now  my  mind 
was  made  up  to  go  back  and  apply  for  the  situation  of 
prison-gardener. 

Again  at  times  I  have  a  perfect  craving  to  get  away 
from  the  city  and  all  these  people  in  it,  into  the  country, 
into  the  solitude  of  the  mountains;  to  be  once  more  in 
the  great  forest,  clambering  down  the  ravine  under  the 
towering  pines  through  the  bush  and  brush  in  the  sun's 
hot  breath  striking  back  from  the  bare  rocks,  or  to  be  at 
Five  Oaks  on  my  horse,  going  over  the  hills  after  the 
cattle.  Oh,  the  hills  after  the  rains  in  their  glory  of  wild 
flowers!  Or  to  be  at  my  father's  place,  making  the 
rounds  of  the  orchards  and  vineyards,  fields  and  pastures 
through  the  hidden  canyons  with  their  close  growth  of 
buckeye,  oak  and  laurel,  opening  from  between  the  swell- 
ing foot-hills  into  the  level  valleys,  with  the  cattle  in 
the  shade  of  the  low-spreading  oaks ! 

One  oak  tree  stood  there,  its  branches  outstretched  as 
if  in  welcome.  I  often  put  my  arms  on  it.  I  should  know 
it  yet,  and  think  it  knew  me. 

Or  to  be  at  sea,  going  down  the  coast  with  a  fair 
wind,  leaning,  half  lying  over  with  arms  spread  on  the 
deck-load  of   lumber,  the   idle   summer   Sunday   hours ; 

136 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

not  listening  to  the  swish  of  the  water,  nor  conscious  of 
the  sway  of  the  vessel,  watching  the  slowly  opening  or 
shutting  chains  of  bare  hills  and  bleak  mountains  of  the 
coast,  a  whale  spouting  close  in  shore,  to  windward  the 
drawn-out,  thin  smoke-pendant  of  some  steamer  passing 
below  the  horizon,  the  sea  In  the  distance  like  a  sheet  of 
polished  silver  under  the  light  of  the  sun,  hidden  by  the 
high  fog  from  where  the  vessel  is  driving,  the  flight  of  a 
solitary  flying  fish  darting  away  to  leeward  I  And  agarn 
the  hills  and  mountains  shifting,  their  crest  lost  in  the 
fog  hanging  down  halfway  over  them ! 

I  think  these  things,  wandering  about  the  streets,  and  at 
times  I  am  like  one  unconscious  and  walk  on  blindly, 
not  noticing  what  I  see  and  hear. 

At  other  times  I  am  all  on  fire  with  the  hope  of  find- 
ing my  brother.  I  watch  the  crowds  that  come  and  go 
by^the  ferries  and  I  hurry  through  them  as  if  he  must 
be  amcrxgst  them,  and  as  if  I  should  know  him  when 
I  saw  him.  Once  I  actually  felt  sure  I  saw  Mr.  Tem 
Oldock.  And  once  I  walked  six  blocks  after  a  large, 
stout  boy  that,  I  thought,  looked  like  Mahon.  As  if 
Mahon  be  not  a  man  of  over  thirty  years  of  age  now. 
In  the  restaurant  where  I  take  my  meals,  I  study  in 
the  daily  papers  the  Society-news,  to  come  across  the 
names  of  Tem  Oldock  and  Alanus.  But  I  never  do. 
It  will  pass  away,  all,  I  know.  I  have  had  such  spells 
before.  Everybody  has  such  spells,  I  think. 
August. 

This  lodging  house  is  run  by  two  men;  brothers  they 
seem  to  be.  They  occupy  the  smallest  kind  of  room  or 
closet  in  the  house,  near  the  landing  of  the  stairs,  where 
they  sleep  alternately,  keeping  a  sort  of  watch  and  watch 
like  aboard  ship,  and  where  they  cook  their  meals  on  a 
gas-stove.  I  had  been  in  that  room  the  day  I  came,  it 
being  in  a  way  the  office  of  the  house.  Since  then  I  had 
not   seen  either  one  of  the  two  men  till   this  morning 

137 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

when  1  went  to  look  for  one  of  them  in  that  room,  to 
ask  if  1  could  not  get  my  room-rent  reduced  if  I  took 
the  room  by  the  month. 

In  the  office  I  noticed  a  City  Directory  lying  on  a  shelf 
behind  the  door,  and  while  the  man  whom  I  found  in  the 
room  went  to  consult  about  my  question  with  his  partner, 
who  was  making  beds  upstairs,  I  took  the  Directory  and 
turned  over  the  leaves. 

No  Alanus  was  in  the  book. 

I  turned  to  the  name  of  Tem  Oldock  and  found  it. 
Both  Mahon's  name  and  his  father's  were  there:  Mr. 
Tem  Oldock  residing  in  Boston,  Massachusetts  and 
Mahon  residing  in  Paris,  France.  Further  a  Tem 
Oldock  Block  was  mentioned  and  a  Tem  Oldock  Com- 
pany with  the  location  given  as  Mexico  and  the  business- 
office  here,  in  the  Tem  Oldock  Block. 

I  was  so  excited  I  hardly  minded  the  man  coming 
back  from  upstairs,  telling  me  that  they  could  make  no 
reduction  in  the  rent,  in  fact  did  not  care  at  all  to  let  their 
rooms  by  the  month,  but  being  a  little  slack  of  roomers 
would  let  me  keep  mine  at  the  present  low  rent. 

I  found  on  looking  that  the  Directory  was  three  years 
old.  I  asked  the  man  if  he  had  no  later  one.  He 
grunted,  ''No!"  adding  I  could  get  one  to  look  at  in  the 
nearest  drug-store.  So  I  went  to  the  nearest  drug-store, 
where  I  found  chained  to  the  counter  an  up  to  date 
City  Directory,  which  I  was  permitted  to  consult. 

I  found  the  names  the  same  as  in  the  first  one ;  but 
besides  the  Tem  Oldock  Company  there  was  a  firm, 
named  John  Tem  Oldock  and  Son,  with  offices  in  the  Tem 
Oldock  Block. 

To  look  up  the  Tem  Oldock  Block,  I  had  net  far  to  go. 
It  is  a  large  corner  building,  constructed  almost  entirely 
of  iron  and  steel,  six  stories  high.  On  the  corner  of  the 
first  story  is  a  large  banking  business.  The  rest  of  the 
building  seems  occupied  by  all  kinds  of  brokers,  commis- 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

sion-merchants,  agents  and  such  people.  The  name  Tern 
Oldock  Block  is  over  the  main  entrance,  next  to  the  bank, 
in  large  gilt  letters. 

I  went  up  in  the  doorway  and  looked  ever  all  the 
signboards.  For  the  moment  I  could  not  see  what  I  was 
looking  for.  But  they  were  right  before  me,  two  signs. 
One  read :  John  Tern  Oldock  and  Son ;  the  other :  Tem 
Oldock  Company.  A  number  of  people  were  going  in 
and  out.  Tlie  elevator  was  constantly  going  up  and  down, 
back  of  the  entrance.  Immediately  behind  the  elevator, 
was  the  stairs.  I  went  up  the  stairs.  In  the  second 
story  I  found  the  names  again  on  the  ground-glass 
panels  of  the  doors  of  the  corner  offices,  on  each  panel 
under  the  names  of  the  firms  that  of  J.  J.  Towell. 

And  then  I  turned  and  walked  away,  back  here  to  my 
room. 

Why  should  I  go  in  ?  What  should  I  say  ?  What  could 
I  find  out  that  I  do  not  already  know  ?  It  is  plain  enough. 
Mahon  and  his  father  are  partners.  They  are  capitalists. 
Their  affairs  have  been  put  in  such  shape  that  others 
manage  it  here  while  they  both  live  abroad.  ^,lv.  Tem 
Oldock  lives  in  Boston ;  that  is  his  native  place,  I  think. 
He  may  have  married  again ;  I  think  it  very  likely. 
Mahon  lives  in  Paris,  France.  He,  I  am  sure  is  married, 
has  been  married  for  years.  I  suppose  their  affairs  have 
been  organized  under  different  heads,  like  other  large  con- 
cerns, I  have  heard  and  read  of.  Their  interests  in 
Mexico  are,  I  dare  say,  mines  and  railroads. 

One  thing  is  not  clear  to  me:  How  can  Mr.  Tem 
Oldock  keep  away  from  business?  His  business?  His 
property?  That  Mahon  can  be  contented  to  lead  the  life 
of  a  gentleman  of  leisure  I  can  understand,  brought  up 
to  it,  one  might  say,  as  he  has  been.  Although  I  need  but 
think  of  those  few  weeks  he  was  on  my  father's  ranch, 
the  pleasure  he  then  found  in  working,  doing  actual  work, 
the  quickness  with  which  he  picked  up  what  there  was  to 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

learn  about  the  work,  his  Intense  satisfaction  in  it,  to  see 
that  after  all  he  was  well  fitted  for  work  and  business; 
farm  work  and  business  at  least.  That  he  only  needed  to 
be  put  to  it  to  make  a  success  of  it.  Still  I  can  understand 
that  he,  brought  up  to  idleness,  can  live  away  from  work 
and  business.  Perhaps  he  has  resided  in  Europe  con- 
tinuously since  he  went  there  that  time  with  his  father. 

But  that  Mr.  Tem  Oldock,  whose  whole  life  was  busi- 
ness and  the  work  of  business  should  live  away  from  It 
and  leave  the  management  of  liis  affairs  to  others,  I  can 
not  get  it  Into  my  head. 

Yet,  what  do  I  know?  May  be  his  interrjsts  in  Bos- 
ton, in  other  parts  of  the  country,  in  other  countries  for 
that  matter,  are  superior  to  his  interests  here,  and  he  is 
doing  there  just  what  1  am  blaming  him  for  neglecting  to 
do  here. 

Anyway  he  is  not  here,  and  it  is  a  blow  to  me.  I  must 
have  been  convinced  in  spite  of  all  my  self-talk  that  I 
should  find  him  or  Mahon  here.  I  must  secretly  and 
^vithout  at  all  knowing  it  have  calculated  on  their  being 
here  as  something  absolutely  sure,  or  I  could  not  possibly 
be  now  so  bitterly  disappointed.  It  is  to  me  as  if  I  had 
lost  them  now  for  good  and  all. 

And  if  they  were  here,  I  should  perhaps  no  more  make 
myself  known  to  them  than  I  could  bring  myself  to  give 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  name  to  the  Prison  Director  to  use 
for  obtaining  my  pardon,  nor  tell  him  anything  about 
knowing  such  a  man. 

Afternoon. 

I  went  again  to  the  Tem  Oldock  Block.  I  thought  per- 
liaps  after  all  they  might  be  here  on  a  visit,  or  I  might 
find  out  something  about  their  coming.  And  I  think  I 
did.  I  planned  I  would  go  to  the  office  to  ask  for  work 
of  any  kind  at  their  possessions  in  Mexico. 

In  the  hallway  of  the  second  story  to  the  rear  I  saw 
an  old  colored  man  who  proved  to  be  the  janitor  of  the 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

building.  1  asked  him  if  either  one  of  the  Messrs.  Tern 
Oldock  was  in  their  offices.  He  seemed  very  dull  or 
hard  of  hearing  or  loath  to  show  his  ignorance,  but  it 
finally  came  out  that  he  knew  neither  Mahon  nor  his 
father,  that  although  he  had  been  janitor  of  the  building 
for  years,  almost  since  it  had  been  built,  he  had  never 
seen  either  one  or  the  other.  I  then  asked  him  if  he 
knew  if  they  were  engaging  any  workmen  for  Mexico 
in  the  Tem  Oldock  offices,  as  I  was  wanting  to  get  work 
there. 

This  moment  a  young  man  with  a  wallet  in  his  hands, 
full  of  papers  which  looked  like  rent-bills,  came  out  of 
one  of  the  Tem  Oldock  offices  and  seeing  the  janitor, 
walked  past  the  elevator,  up  to  him,  to  tell  him  something 
I  suppose,  when  the  colored  man,  pointing  to  him,  said  to 
me,  "Ask  him!" 

He  was  quite  a  ycung  man  with  a  clean-scraped, 
pimply  face  and  a  good  deal  of  gold  in  his  teeth,  and  an 
air  of  importance  such  as  a  very  young  employee  in  any 
business  might  have. 

''Are  you  engaging  any  men  now.  Sir!  for  work  in 
the  lower  country?"  I  asked  him  as  he  turned  to  me. 

"The  company?"  he  asked  in  return,  "on  the  island? 
on  the  ranch?  at  the  wells?  or  the  mines?" 

He  certainly  spoke  boastingly,  but  off-hand,  openly 
enough. 

I  said  I  should  like  to  get  work  at  either  one  of  those 
places,  but  if  I  had  to  give  any  preference  it  would  be  to 
the  ranch,  I  thought. 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "we  are  not  engaging  any  men  now 
at  the  ranch.    What  work  can  you  do?    Can  you  cook?" 

I  could  do  plain  cooking,  I  told  him. 

"I  thought  you  looked  like  you  could  cook."  said  he. 
"Well,  we  don't  need  any  cook  now.  We  engaged  a 
cook  last  month  for  one  of  the  mines.     Fifty  dollars! 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

And  found,  of  course!  We  paid  the  passage,  too.  We 
always  do.     He  had  only  one  eye." 

I  waited  a  second  or  two  for  something  more  to  fol- 
low and  was  about  to  speak  again,  when  he  resumed: 
''What  more  can  you  do?  Can  you  drive  a  team  of 
horses?" 

I  answered,  yes,  I  could  take  care  of  horses  and  do 
any  kind  of  work  with  them. 

''I  thought  you  might,"  he  said.  "Well  all  our  teaming 
there  is  done  with  mules." 

I  ventured  to  give  it  as  my  opinion,  that  that  would 
hardly  make  any  difference. 

''Oh,  yes,  it  would,"  he  cried.  "A  mule  is  a  very 
peculiar  animal.  We  could  not  trust  our  mules  with  a 
man,  unless  he  were  a  regular  muleteer.  Is  there  noth- 
ing at  all  else  you  can  do?" 

I  said  I  could  do  gardening  of  any  kind.  And  I  should 
be  able  and  willing  to  do  any  kind  of  work  I  could  get 
to  do,  from  ordinary  clerking  and  shoveling  coal  to  dish- 
washing. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "we  are  not  hiring  any  gardeners 
at  this  moment,  nor  clerks,  nor  colliers,  nor  dishwashers. 
In  fact  we  are  not  hiring  any  help  just  now." 

As  he  paused  for  a  moment,  I  with  a  great  effort 
brought  myself  to  ask:  "Is  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  at  the  ranch 
now,  or  is  he  at  the  mines?" 

"Who?  The  old  gentleman?  The  old  gentleman  is 
not  at  the  ranch,  and  he  is  not  at  the  mines,  and  he  is 
not  on  the  Pacific  Cosst,  and  he  has  not  been  on  the 
Pacific  Coast  for  many  years."  He  spoke  as  if  defying 
me. 

"The  young  gentleman  ?"  I  hinted. 

"Lord!"  he  exclaimed.  "He  has  never  yet  been  on 
the  Coast  at  all." 

He  was  beginning  to  eye  me  suspiciously,  I  thought, 
but  yet   I  went   on   speaking,   saying  that   I  had   heard 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  young  gentleman  was  living  in  Europe  ainl  going  to 
continue  to  live  there. 

''You  have?"  he  cried  in  his  shrillest  voice.  "Well, 
you  have  heard  wrong  then.  He  is  going  to  do  no  such 
thing.  He  has  quitted  Europe.  He  is  in  Boston  if  you 
want  to  know.  They  are  both  at  Boston  at  present,  and 
nobody  knows  when  they  are  going  to  show  up  here." 

And  then  as  though  becoming  confusedly  conscious 
of  having  been  drawn  out,  he  rushed  off,  down-stairs,  not 
even  waiting  for  the  elevator. 

August. 

I  have  found  anothei  place  to  stop.  I  have  rented  a 
room  for  one  dollar  a  week,  and  I  have  moved.  I  spoke 
to  that  Irishman,  Began  or  Dugan  is  his  name,  who  sells 
newspapers  at  the  Ferry  Depot,  whom  I  once  spoke  to 
about  going  into  the  newspaper-selling  business.  I  asked 
him  if  he  did  not  know  of  a  room  for  rent. 

"I  do,"  he  said.     "The  very  place." 

I  told  him  I  should  have  to  be  satisfied  with  almost 
anything  as  long  as  it  was  clean. 

"I  know  just  what  you  want,"  he  professed. 

"But,"  I  conditioned,  "if  possible  not  on  a  narrow  back- 
street  or  alley." 

"Just  the  thing,  the  very  same!"  Missis,  she  is  wife  to 
the  cousin  of  the  grocery  man  in  the  middle  of  the  block 
beyond,  by  the  mother's  side,  O'Brien  was  her  name; 
the  mother  :  she  lived  till  last  Christmas  before  she  died 
on  Tehama  street. 

"But  is  not  that  a  narrow  street?" 

"It  is  not  on  the  street  at  all.  It  is  in  the  rear.  You 
go  in  through  the  cellar.  No  back  alley !  A  nice,  small, 
little,  rear  yard  with  a  high  board-fence  around  so  no- 
body can  look  in  on  you!  You  just  give  her  my  name! 
Or  if  you  will  wait  half  an  hour,  I  will  gc  with  you. 
But  you  just  give  her  my  name  and  you  will  see  what  she 
will  do  for  you." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

He  proceeded  to  give  me  the  number  which  I  took, 
thanking  him,  and  walked  away  in  another  direction  up 
to  near  the  top  of  Russian  hill  where  the  other  day 
I  had  noticed  a  sign  of  rooms  for  rent  in  a  house,  the 
appearance  and  whole  situation  of  which  had  seemed  to 
me  very  suitable. 

Having  come  to  the  place,  I  found  to  my  disappoint- 
ment that  the  room  in  question  was  in  a  rear  house  and 
of  rather  poor  access.  Yet  the  view  at  once  decided  me 
to  take  it.  The  lot  falls  steeply  from  the  front  to  the 
rear.  A  rude  sort  of  flower-garden  extends  on  the  east 
side  of  the  front  house  from  the  street  to  the  rear  line. 
Through  this  garden  a  narrow  walk,  illy  paved  with 
bricks  and  at  the  most  unexpected  places  interrupted  by 
steps  of  loose  bricks,  leads  down  to  the  rear  house  and 
the  upper  floor  is  reached  by  a  flight  of  outside  steps  from 
the  brick-walk  to  the  second  story  veranda.  It  is  an 
ok],  frame  house  with  a  wide  two-story  veranda  round 
the  front  and  the  one  side  of  the  house.  There  is  a  sep- 
arate glass  door  from  the  veranda  into  the  room  I  rented. 
From  my  window  I  have  the  full  view  over  the  neighbor- 
ing houses  onto  the  lower  parts  of  the  town,  the  fringe 
of  shipping,  the  bay  and  the  opposite  ranges  of  hills,  all 
unobstructed. 

I  went  at  once  and  brought  my  things  away  from  the 
lodging  house  at  the  Ferry  Depot  although  I  had  yet  an- 
other night's  lodging  to  my  credit  there.  My  new  land- 
lady had  wanted  to  wait  and  see  her  husband,  who  was 
out  working,  before  she  let  me  have  the  roc»m.  But  I 
had  over-ruled  her  hesitation.  And  when  I  came  with  my 
things  and  she  saw  my  musical  instruments,  she  seemed 
perfectly  satisfied  and  much  pleased.  Her  husband  was 
musical,  she  said. 

She  seems  to  be  a  very  good  kind  of  person,  some- 
what innocent,  rather  precise  and  a  little  nervous.  She 
told  me  she  was  her  husband's  second  wife,  his  first  wife 

144 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

by  whom  he  had  two  grown-up  children,  a  son  and  a 
(laughter,  having  died  about  two  years  before.  But  they 
had  behaved  very  unfriendly  to  her  and  never  came  to 
sec  her;  though  they  were  not  bad,  not  wild  nor  any 
thing  like  that.  The  aaughter  v/as  staying  with  friends 
and  did  dressmaking  for  a  living;  the  young  man  was 
driving  an  express-wagon.  Somehow  it  pleased  me  to 
have  her  tell  me  all  this ;  and  it  interested  me  too.  The 
husband's  name  she  said  was  Carpenter,  and  he  w^as  a 
carpenter. 

That  seems  to  be  a  standing  joke  with  them.  When 
her  husband  afterw^ards  came  home  and  she  brought 
him  into  my  room  for  my  introduction,  he  repeated  it, 
saying:  "Yes,  I  am  Mr.  Carpenter.  My  name  is  Car- 
penter and  I  am  a  carpenter."  He  has  a  hccirty  way  of 
speaking  and  appears  easy  going  and  careless.  Never- 
theless I  thought  I  saw  him  eyeing  my  small  box  rather 
doubtfully  and  heard  him  ask  his  wife,  as  they  left  the 
room,  if  I  had  paid  the  rent,  and  look  relieved  when  she 
said  I  had.  So  perhaps-'  his  outward  manner  is  no  more 
than  just  an  outward  manner. 

Shortly  after  they  were  gone  Mrs.  Carpenter  came 
back  with  a  lamp  for  me  ready  lighted,  which  almost 
blew  out  before  I  had  opened  the  door  at  her  knocking. 
I  had  a  candle  burning  I  had  bought  the  first  evening 
some  candles,  when  I  was  writing  all  night  She  said 
something  about  my  not  needing  to  furnish  my  own  light. 
I  told  her  I  often  had  writing  to  do,  calculating,  figuring 
and  the  like  far  into  the  night  and  could  not  expect  her 
to  furnish  me  the  light  for  that.  She  answered  quite 
kindly,  well,  no !  of  course  she  did  not  expect  me  to  burn 
the  lamp  all  night,  but  if  I  burnt  candles,  I  might  find 
it  cheaper  to  pay  her  a  little  extra  for  light;  I  should 
have  to  pay  for  the  candles  anyhow.  I  told  her  she  was 
right  and  when   I  had   found  out  how  many  candles   I 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

used  after,  say,  ten  o  clock,  we  could  come  to  an  under- 
standing. 

She  next  started  to  talk  about  the  neighbors  in  a 
v/omanly  gossipy  way,  ^.nd  yet  not  altogether  gossipy  nor 
at  all  unkindly,  but  as  if  she  felt  it  her  duty  to  make 
me  acquainted  with  particularities  of  our  neighbors,  since 
they  were  the  neighbors  that  we  had  to  try  to  be  on  good 
footing  with. 

When  she  was  gone  and  I  had  just  got  through  putting 
my  few  things  to  rights,  Mr.  Carpenter  knocked  and  came 
in,  ostensibly  to  ask  if  I  wanted  anything  he  could  do 
for  iny  comfort,  but  in  reality  to  hear  me  play  the  banjo. 
T  had  to  play  and  play,  to  play  more  and  yet  more,  he 
tapping  time  with  his  feet  and  telling  me  in  every  pause 
how  much  he  liked  music  and  how  sorry  he  was  he  could 
not  play  any  instrument.  He  also  offered  to  have  my 
guitar  repaired  by  a  friend  of  his  who  could  do  such 
things  and  would  do  it  free  of  charge.  And  he  has  taken 
the  instrument  with  him.  He  certainly  is  fond  of  music. 
And  his  ear  is  good.  He  might  have  kept  me  playing 
till  now,  had  not  bis  wife  interrupted  us,  knocking  at  the 
door  and  opening  it,  asking  was  he  going  to  tire  me  out 
at  once  for  good  and  all. 

I  think  I  have  fallen  into  very  good  hands.  The  woman 
is  certainly  cleanly  and  if  nervous,  sensible  and  kind- 
hearted.  And  as  for  Mr.  Carpenter,  I  am  very  glad  he 
likes  music.  I  shall  be  able  to  play  without  giving  offence. 
Moreover,  it  will  prevent  conversation  until  I  have  got 
to  be  an  old  story  with  them,  after  which  they  will  not 
ask  any  questions  any  more.  Mrs.  Carpenter,  coming  in 
to  ask  if  I  was  not  being  tired  out,  did  not  know  how 
eager  I  was  to  play  till  her  husband  would  go  away,  so 
as  to  keep  him  from  coming  to  the  asking  cf  the  very 
natural  question,  who  and  what  I  was,  and  where  I  came 
from.  I  am  just  the  least  bit  suspicious  that  he  is  a  trifle 
inquisitive  in  a  good-natured  way.     She  had  before  asked 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

me  my  occupation,  and  I  had  told  her  I  was  a  gardener. 
I  had  spoken  almost  before  thinking.  But  my  speaking 
has  settled  the  business.  I  am  a  gardener.  And  for  my 
name  I  have  taken  my  mother's. 

A  buoyant  feeling  is  in  me.  I  like  my  dwelling  and 
the  people.  But  it  is  not  that.  I  am  glad  I  moved.  It 
seems  to  put  the  prison  farther  away.  But  it  is  not  that. 
I  am  not  thinking  of  the  prison.  My  heart  is  light.  Some- 
thing possesses  me  so  that  I  should  like  to  dance  and 
sing. 

August. 

I  have  a  good  deal  to  write  down  here.  And  it  comes 
to  me  naturally  to  do  it !  Friday  was  a  good  day.  That 
joyousness  of  spirits  in  me  from  the  moment  I  awoke,  I 
felt  it  as  if  it  had  stayed  with  me  in  my  sleep,  I  went  out 
early  and  took  a  bite  for  breakfast  in  the  little  coffee 
saloon  round  the  corner  of  the  second  street  from  here. 
From  there  I  walked  along  that  street  farther  west,  and 
at  the  first  house  I  came  to  where  somebody  was  working 
in  the  front  garden-yard,  I  asked  for  work.  A  dull-look- 
ing man  in  dressing  gown  and  slippers,  and  smoking  a 
short  pipe,  was  tying  up  some  creepers  round  the  front 
bay  window  of  a  two-story  house.  I  opened  the  gate  of 
the  front  picket  fence  and  stepped  up  to  the  man. 

"No  tramps  here!"  he  said. 

"No?"  I  asked.     "Amply  provided?" 

He  looked  at  me  very  stupidly  and  cried,  "What  do  you 
mean?    What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  work,"  I  said.  "Give  me  a  quarter  and  I  will 
trim  up  this  place  for  you.  That  is,  if  you  have  any  tools. 
I  am  a  gardener,  but  I  have  not  got  even  a  knife." 

He  stood  in  a  sort  of  helpless  way,  while  I  took  the 
twine,  with  which  he  was  tying  the  creeper,  out  of  his 
hands  and  proceeded  with  the  fastening  of  the  plant  that 
had  come  loose. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"Now,  where  are  the  tools?"  I  demanded.  "In  the 
back  yard?" 

"In  the  shed,"  he  answered.  "I  will  get  them  for  you." 

It  rather  looked  as  though  he  was  afraid  to  let  me  go 
into  the  back  yard  and  shed,  lest  1  might  steal  some- 
thing or  find  out  the  lay  of  things  there,  to  come  back 
another  time  for  that  purpose.  But  that  did  not  worry 
me.  He  brought  me  some  tools.  I  worked  away  and  in 
little  more  than  half  an  hour  had  everything  trimmed  up, 
looking  well,  the  man  standing  by  watching  me  the  whole 
time,  never  speaking  a  word. 

When  he  paid  me  he  said :  "This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
ever  seen  a  Greaser  work  like  a  white  man." 

I  retorted,  "I  would  back  the  worst  Greaser  against  you 
for  work,"  on  which  he  cried  as  before:  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"I  mean,"  I  said,  "that  I  will  keep  this  place  in  trim  for 
you  like  this,  come,  if  you  want  me  to,  say,  once  every 
other  week,  and  charge  you  fifty  cents  every  time.  But 
you  will  have  to  find  me  the  tools.  And  for  extra  work 
you  will  have  to  pay  extra." 

"Well,  go  ahead,"  he  mumbled,  in  his  kind  of  helpless 
way,  and  I  said  good-morning  and  came  away, 

A  few  blocks  farther,  where  the  lines  of  houses  were 
already  getting  thinner,  I  accosted  an  old  woman  who 
was  snipping  awav  at  a  rose  bush  in  front  of  a  plain,  shin- 
gled cottage.  She  wore  a  Quaker  bonnet  ai.-d  gauntlet 
gloves  and  blue  spectacles,  and  was  using  common,  heavy 
scissors,  with  which  she  evidently  found  it  hard  work 
trimming  the  bush. 

"Would  you  give  a  fellow  a  job,  madam?"  I  asked  very 
politely.  "I  am  a  gardener  and  I  want  work  badly.  I 
will  trim  up  this  place  for  twenty-five  cents." 

"You  are  a  Dago,"  she  told  me. 

"No,  madam,"  1  said,  "I  am  a  Greaser." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"Well,"  she  replied,  after  considering  a  bit,  ''are  they 
not  the  same?" 

"Oh,  no,  madam,"  I  lejoined,  as  though  I  was  making 
a  communication  of  some  importance.  "A  Dago  origin- 
ally meant  a  Spaniard,  but  the  meaning  of  the  name  has 
gradually  been  expanded  to  comprise  all  peoples  of  the 
South  of  Europe,  except,  perhaps,  the  Turks.  A  Greaser 
is  a  native  of  the  Pacific  American  coast,  of  Indian 
descent." 

"Well,"  she  answered,  considering  again  a  bit  as  before, 
as  if  not  sure  that  I  was  not  quizzing  her,  "yon  don't  look 
like  an  Indian,  you  look  like  Italian  mixed." 

"You  have  a  discerning  eye,  madam,"  I  exclaimed. 
"My  father  was  of  Italian  and  German  parentage.  My 
mother  was  a  Mexican,  and  I  was  born  here  on  the 
coast.  So,  you  see,  I  am  a  Californian  n.ixture.  In 
mind  and  spirit  I  have  always  considered  myself  more 
German  than  anydiing  else.  Yet,  I  dare  say,  I  am  really 
most  part  Mexican-Indian.  You  are  Anglo-Saxon,  are 
you  not?" 

"Indeed,  I  am,  and  from  the  North.  How  much  did 
you  say  you  wanted  for  fixing  the  yard?" 

"A  quarter  of  a  dollar." 

"Well,  times  are  hard,  but  I  will  give  you  the  job." 

She  had  no  spade  nor  hoe,  only  a  bricklayer's  trowel 
she  was  accustomed  to  use  for  digging  up  the  ground. 
Nor  had  she  any  other  tools  besides  the  scissors  in  her 
hand,  except  a  pretty  handy  knife  and  a  rake  with  half 
the  tines  broken  out.  So  I  could  not  work  very  fast  nor 
do  my  work  half  ways  neatly.  Yet  working  with  a  will  I 
was  through  in  less  than  an  hour,  had  watered  everything 
vv^ell  from  an  old  watering  pot,  drawing  the  water  from  a 
faucet  on  the  east  side  of  the  cottage,  where  the  garden, 
or  front  yard  was  divided  off  by  a  lattice  fence  from  the 
rear,  which  was  planked  with  rough  boards  and  fenced 
around  with  a  board  fence  all  the  way  back. 

149 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

The  old  lady  bad  gene  into  the  house.  I  called  her. 
She  came  out  of  the  rear  kitchen  door  up  to  the  side  gate 
in  the  lattice  fence,  and  expressed  herself  as  being  satis- 
fied so  far,  but  wanted  to  know  why  I  did  not  go  on  and 
fix  the  balance  of  the  yard. 

"What  yard  ?"  1  inquired. 

''Why,  this  yard!  all  yard!"  she  cried.  "Did  you  not 
say  you  would  fix  the  yard  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  and 
don't  you  expect  to  get  your  money  ?  Is  not  this  here  back 
place  as  much  yard  as  that  little  front  patch  ?  I  declare ! 
Do  you  suppose  I  would  pay  twenty-five  cents  for  just 
watering  that  front  garden?  Why,  you  have  been  not 
more  than  twenty  mniutes  at  it.  Why,  at  a  quarter  of  a 
dollar,  that  would  be  seventy-five  cents  an  hour,  seven 
dollars  and  a  half  for  a  day's  work  of  ten  hours.  You 
would  Hke  that,  I  guess" 

It  vexed  me  a  little  to  be  tricked  this  way,  but  least 
said,  soonest  mended.  I  asked  for  a  broom  and  with  that 
and  the  trowel  went  to  work  cleaning  up  the  back  yard, 
which  certainly  needed  it  very  much.  When  I  had  every- 
thing in  broom-clean  and  orderly  condition  I  called  the  old 
lady  again  from  out  the  kitchen  where  she  was  frying 
out  fat. 

She  pretended  to  be  mightily  indignant  yet. 

"I  have  a  great  mind  not  to  pay  you  at  all,"  she 
grunted,  "for  trying  to  cheat."  Nor  would  she  till  I  had 
piled  up  some  wood  in  the  shed  and  after  that  nailed  up 
some  shelves  in  the  rough  laundry  under  the  house  and 
after  that  changed  some  pulleys  for  the  clothes  lines  from 
one  fence  post  to  another.  And  then  I  thought  she  only 
made  ready  to  pay  me,  because  she  was  expecting  some 
one  to  come  whom  she  did  not  want  to  hear  of  my  smart 
treatment  by  her.  It  was  getting  on  towards  noon.  She 
had  the  table  set  for  luncheon.  Some  of  her  folks  would 
be  home  soon.  At  least  she  appeared  all  at  once  very 
eager  for  me  to  be  gone.     She  went  through  a  pocket  in 

150 


CHRONICLES  OP  MANUEL  ALANUS 

her  dress  and  produced  fifteen  cents,  which  she  offered 
me,  saying  it  was  all  the  money  she  had. 

When  I  claimed  that  that  was  not  the  agreement,  she 
cried  :  'The  agreement !  The  agreement !  You  broke  the 
agreement  right  ofiF.'" 

It  was  such  a  small  matter  and  I  felt  utterly  ashamed 
of  all  this  disputing  and  haggling,  and  with  a  woman,  too, 
but  I  could  not  let  the  woman's  falsehood  pass  uncontra- 
dicted. "I  did  not,"  I  called  back,  "and  you  know  it. 
But  I  will  not  waste  another  word  on  that  matter.  I  have 
now  done  much  more  than  you  could  possibly  have  misun- 
derstood me  to  agree  to  do  when  we  made  the  bargain, 
and  now  I  want  my  money.    Ten  cents  more !" 

It  became  more  and  more  evident  that  she  wanted  me 
to  be  gone.  After  another  hurried  going  through  her 
pocket  and  searching  a  satchel  lying  on  a  shelf  over  the 
kitchen  sink,  she  handed  me  a  nickel,  protesting  it  was 
all  the  money  she  had  in  the  house.  But  in  the  very  act 
she  dropped  another  nickel  out  of  her  hand  on  the  floor 
right  before  my  feet.  I  could  not  help  smiling.  "Take 
the  money,"  she  called  out,  "and  don't  you  ever  show  your 
grinning  face  round  here  again." 

I  had  begun  to  feel  hungry  and  was  looking  for  a  place 
to  buy  something  to  eat,  when  I  came  to  a  short  street 
running  through  the  middle  of  the  block,  all  built  up  with 
cottages,  lately  finished  I  could  see,  each  one  with  a  neat 
little  front  yard.  I  walked  down  this  street.  The  cottages 
were  all  alike,  except  one  in  the  center  of  the  row,  which 
had  a  high  basement  or  cellar  and  was  a  little  wider  than 
the  rest  and  more  plain.  In  the  front  of  it  a  lady  was 
setting  out  some  flower  plants  in  the  newly  prepared 
ground. 

After  passing  the  place,  I  turned  back  and  spoke  to  the 
lady. 

"If  you  wish  for  any  help,  madam,"  I  said,  tipping  my 
hat,  "I  am  a  gardener  and  in  want  of  a  job;  and  I  should 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

work  for  very  small  wages."  I  saw  she  was  bright  and 
fair,  with  a  beautiful  complexion ;  rather  young,  not  more 
than  twenty-two  or  twenty-three  years  old  certainly,  of 
good  figure,  but  looking  as  though  she  might  grow  stout 
in  coming  years.  She  made  a  face  half  way  between  a 
smile  and  a  pout  as  she  answered : 

"If  I  wish  for  any  help?  Well,  I  should  think  I  rather 
wish  I  had  some  help.  1  did  not  bargain  for  this  job  at  all. 
J  told  my  husband  I  would  fix  this  garden  if  he  would  get 
everything  ready.  But,  law  me !  I  never  felt  so  in  all  my 
life.  Why,  my  back  is  that  sore  and  my  face  is  just  burn- 
ing." And  she  lifted  a  large  straw  hat  from  her  head  to 
show  me  a  face  I  had  already  noticed  to  be  very  pleasant 
and  fair  to  look  at,  but  nowise  burning. 

''But  I  don't  know,"  she  continued,  "if  I  can  set  you  to 
work  before  my  husband  comes  home.  And  he  will  not 
be  home  till  after  five  o'clock  this  evening.  How  much 
would  you  charge  to  fix  this  ?" 

•'It  will  take  me  till  dark,  I  judge,"  I  said.  "Perhaps 
1  should  not  get  through  altogether  and  have  to  finish  it 
to-morrow  morning.  But  I  would  do  it  all  for  a  dollar,  if 
that  is  not  too  much  for  you." 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "if  it  is  not  to  be  more  than  a  dollar, 
I  will  risk  it  without  waiting  for  my  husband.  You  go 
right  to  work.  Come  in,"  opening  the  gate  for  me,  "come 
ill.  And,  oh,  yes,  try  to  get  through  before  five  o'clock. 
It  needs  not  to  be  done  so  extra  fine,  you  know-  And  then, 
vou  know,  I  shall  pretend  I  did  it.  Won't  that  be  fun ! 
He  said,  you  know,  I  never  could  do  it.  And  he  never 
will  know  the  difference  in  all  his  life." 

I  asked  her  how  she  wanted  the  flowers  placed. 

"Oh,  any  way,"  she  exclaimed.  "Just  make  it  look  as 
neat  as  you  can  and  so  that  you  get  through  by  five  to- 
night." And  she  went  away  by  a  passage,  a  driveway  it 
was,  on  the  side  of  the  cottage  to  the  rear,  and  left  mc 
alone  to  do  the  best  I  could  with  the  flowers  in  the  pots 

ic;2 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  the  gardening  tools  and  the  two  plots  of  ground,  one 
each  side  of  the  central  walk.  I  had  no  time  to  lose,  yet 
after  the  fashion  of  my  nature,  I  first  had  to  consider 
how  to  proceed.  But  it  was  only  a  simple  proposition.  I 
concluded  to  group  the  principal  flowers  on  both  sides  of 
the  front  steps,  stringing  them  out  around  to  the  front 
line,  leaving  the  test  to  be  sown  in  grass,  so  as  to  obtain 
on  each  side  of  the  central  walk  a  small  lawn  with  a 
background  of  flowers. 

I  had  made  quite  a  little  headway  when  the  lady  ap- 
peared at  the  front  door  and  called  to  me,  "Had  you  not 
better  have  some  lunch  first?  Oh,  my  I  Why,  my  life! 
You  are  doing  fine.  We  don't  eat  anything  but  fish  to- 
day, but  I  have  some  cold,  boiled  ham  that  is  awfully 
nice.  And  I  can  boil  you  an  tgg.  I  am  sure  you  have  not 
had  your  lunch  yet.     I  had  mine  some  time  ago." 

I  told  him  she  was  very  kind  and  thoughtful ;  if  she 
could  give  me  a  bite  of  something  to  eat,  it  would  make 
me  work  better,  as  I  had  had  but  a  slim  breakfast;  only 
she  must  not  go  to  any  trouble  about  it ;  a  piece  of  bread 
would  do  me.  But  that  would  not  do  her.  She  asked  me 
to  come  in,  and  when  I  pointed  to  my  shoes  all  moist  and 
dirty  with  loam,  she  said  that  it  did  not  matter,  but  yet 
gave  in  that  I  should  go  round  by  the  side  driveway  to  the 
rear  kitchen  door,  where  we  had  another  little  dispute 
about  my  coming  into  the  kitchen.  She  was  so  insisting. 
yet  so  pleasant,  speaking  with  such  a  sweet-sounding 
voice,  pretending  to  be  provoked  at  my  refusal  to  enter, 
yet  so  smiling,  I  could  not  help  smiling  back  at  her  and 
speaking  to  her  somewhat  in  her  own  manner,  while  I 
persisted  in  remaining  standing  outside  the  kitchen  door 
and  taking  out  of  her  hand  a  big  ham  sandwich  and  a  hard 
boiled  egg  and  a  cup  of  tea,  for  which  she  had  boiled  the 
water  on  a  little  gas  stove,  and  then  sitting  down  on  the 
kitchen  doorstep  to  eat  and  drink.  The  kitchen  door  was 
open,  but  there  was  a  wire  screen  door  to  it,  kept  closed 

^S2> 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

by  a  spring.    She  was  inside  talking  to  me,  standing  with 
her  cheek  almost  touching  the  wire  screen. 

"I  think  you  are  just  too  awful  for  anythhig,"  she  was 

saying. 

"I  am  too  awfully  dirty  for  your  clean  kitchen,  that  I 

know,"  I  spoke  back. 

"The  idea  of  your  sitting  out  there  and  eating!  My 
life !    And  there  is  that  skinny  old  woman  looking  at  you." 

"That  is  the  reason  I  wanted  to  sit  here  and  eat,  so  that 
she  saw  me.  It  might  give  her  an  appetite.  And  she  can- 
not see  you." 

"I  don't  care  if  she  sees  more  or  not,"  she  pouted.  At 
the  same  time,  however,  she  stepped  back  from  the  screen 
door  and  up  to  her  gas  stove  to  turn  off  the  gas  she  had 
left  burning  all  this  time. 

I  had  called  her  Mrs.  De  Lang,  and  she  asked  how  I 
came  to  know  her  name.  Over  the  gate  of  the  driveway 
was  a  long  signboard  with  the  name:  Thomas  E.  De 
Lang,  Builder  and  Contractor. 

"So  you  think  from  my  appearance,"  I  said,  "that  I 
cannot  read." 

"I  think  you  are  awfully  smart,"  came  her  words  from 
the  other  side  of  tlie  kitchen.  "You  don't  talk  like  a  work- 
man at  all." 

"I  shall  have  to  be  smart  to  get  through  with  my  job 
to-day,"  I  rejoined  as  I  stood  up  and  knocked  at  the  side 
of  the  screen  door,  so  that  the  old  lady  next  door  but  one, 
who  was  watching  us  from  her  window,  could  see  it  and 
see  me  hand  back  my  plate  and  cup  to  Mrs.  De  Lang  and 
most  profoundly  bow  to  her,  at  which  she  broke  into  a 
smile  and  laughed. 

Such  a  delicious  laugh!  It  made  my  ears  tingle  for 
some  time  after  I  had  gone  back  to  work. 

Mrs.  De  Lang  did  not  show  herself  again  till  nearly 
four  o'clock,  when  she  came  out  at  the  front  door,  dressed 
to  go  out.     She  expressed   herself  highly  pleased  with 

154 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

all  i  had  done,  found  it  all  too  pretty  for  anything,  said 
she  had  never  seen  anything  like  it  in  all  her  Hfe,  and  told 
me  she  had  to  go  out,  but  would  be  back  before  five 
o'clock.  She  looked  almost  too  charming  for  imy  man  to 
think  much  of  anything  but  that,  still  I  could  not  help 
feeling  in  a  way  displeased  with  her  for  going  away  so 
late,  when,  according  to  my  notions,  she  ought  to  be  get- 
ting dinner  ready  or  supper  and  preparing  for  her  hus- 
band's coming  home.  And  I  half  wondered  where  she 
could  be  going  so  late,  as  I  looked  after  her  briskly  walk- 
ing down  the  quiet  street,  the  black  ostrich  plumes  on  her 
large  hat  nodding  at  every  step. 

I  had  from  the  first  doubted  my  ability  to  quite  finish 
my  job  that  day,  and  soon  clearly  saw  that  I  could 
not  do  it  unless  I  worked  till  after  six  o'clock.  I  now 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  away  earlier  and  come  in  the 
morning  to  do  what  remained  to  be  done,  so  as  not  to  be 
caught  this  evening  by  ]Mr.  De  Lang,  which  might  be 
awkward,  besides  spoiling  Mrs.  De  Lang's  intended  sur- 
prise, who,  I  felt  almost  certain,  would  not  be  back  before 
five  o'clock,  or  at  five,  or  even  later.  I  did  not  consider 
if  it  might  not  be  unsafe  to  go  away.  It  came  to  me  later 
on,  but  I  did  not  think  of  it  at  that  time.  I  was  in  the 
very  act  of  collecting  the  tools  to  put  them  in  their  closet 
under  the  front  steps,  when  I  saw  a  horse  and  buggy 
coming  along  the  street,  and  immediately  concluded  that 
the  man  sitting  in  the  buggy,  leisurely  driving  the  bay 
mare,  was  Mr.  De  Lang. 

As  he  turned  on  to  the  sidewalk  up  to  the  gate  of  the 
driveway,  I  being  on  that  side,  jumped  over  the  low  fence 
and  opened  the  gate  for  him  and  shut  it  after  him  again. 
And  I  did  the  same  with  the  second  inner  gate.  He  did 
not  speak,  only  glanced  at  me  carelessly.  But  he  Uked  my 
attentiveness,'l  could  see.  He  did  but  just  drive  through 
the  inner  gate.     When  he  was  inside  and  right  opposite 

155 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

me,   he  pulled   up  his   horse  and  asked,   speaking  quite 
slowly:  ''Whom  are  you  working  for  here?" 

''Mrs.  De  Lang,"  I  replied,  and,  after  a  short  pause  of 
politeness,  went  on: 

"Mrs.  De  Lang  went  out  half  an  hour  ago.  She  said 
she  would  be  back  at  five  o'clock.  She  did  not  expect  you 
home  so  early.    That  is,  I  suppose  you  are  Mr.  De  Lang." 

"Did  she  tell  you  where  she  put  the  key?  Never  mind. 
I  can  manage  to  get  in  anyhow.  Can  you  put  up  the  horse 
for  me  in  the  stable  back  there?  Never  mind.  I  think 
I  won't  unharness  her.  I  shall  have  to  go  down  town  to 
get  something  to  cat.    Yes !" 

All  this  he  brought  forth  in  a  slow,  expressionless  way, 
taking  apparently  his  wife's  absence,  the  lock-up  of  his 
house,  the  prospect  of  no  home  dinner  as  coolly  as  my 
presence.  I  felt  i  iclined  to  be  sorry  for  him.  I  repeated 
thjit  Mrs.  De  Lang  had  certainly  not  expected  him  so 
soon,  that  she  probably  had  not  minded  how  late  it  was, 
when  she  went  away,  that  I  ought  to  have  reminded  her 
of  it.  And  I  told  him  of  the  surprise  she  had  intended 
for  him,  all  of  which  explanations  he  took  kindly,  which 
again  readily  made  me  take  a  liking  to  him. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said,  getting  out  of  his  buggy,  "it  is 
fish  day,  anyhow." 

Then,  after  a  minute,  during  which  we  stood  gazing  at 
each  other  in  a  most  imbecile  way,  he  commented,  always  , 
speaking  as  if  deliberating,  "She  could  never  have  made 
me  believe  that  she  fixed  the  garden.  I  told  her  so.  I 
am  glad  she  employed  you  to  do  it.  She  couM  not  have 
done  it.    She  bet  me  she  could." 

He  was  hunting  round  under  the  door  mat,  under  the 
steps,  behind  the  basement  door  for  the  key  of  the  kitchen 
door,  while  I  w'as  stabling  the  horse. 

"Maybe  Mrs.  De  Lang  left  the  door  unlocked,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

Sure  enough,  the  kitchen  door  proved  to  be  not  locked, 

156 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

with  the  key  sticking  inside  in  the  lock,  when  Mr.   De 
Lang  tried  it. 

'^  should  hardly  have  given  her  credit  for  so  much 

sense,"  he  muttered. 

"She  thought."  I  took  occasion  to  say,  "that  I  should 
not  go  away  till   she  would  be  back,  or  you  had  come 

home." 

I  thought  I  fully  understood  his  humor  when  he  re- 
marked in  his  slow  way,  "Lucky  for  you  I  camic  home." 

He  now  went  into  the  house  while  I  returned  to  my 
work.  Since  the  surprise  was  a  lost  thing,  I  might  as 
well  work  one  hour  longer  and  finish  the  job,  which  I  did 
without  Mr.  De  Lang  making  his  reappearance.  But 
when  I  was  putting  away  the  tools,  I  heard  him  calling, 
and  found  him  in  the  basement.  He  had  fed  his  horse, 
had  cleaned  and  put  up  his  harness  and  buggy,  and  was 
now  washing  himself  at  a  washtub  in  the  laundry. 

"My  wife  had  no  right  to  go  away  and  kave  you  here 
by  yourself,"  he  observed  over  his  towel,  as  T  came  near 
enough  to  be  spoken  to,  every  word  seeming  a  fathom 
long.  "Suppose  she  should  have  mislaid  something,  or 
lost  something,  she  might  think  you  took  it." 

"She  could  not  think  that,"  I  protested,  but  I  suppose 
rather  consciously.  "She  had  given  me  work,  she  had 
given  me  to  eat  and  to  drink.     She  would  not  think  that 

badly  of  me." 

"Well,"  he  conceded,  after  a  little  more  toweling,  "no, 
she  would  not  think  that,  and  I  don't  think  any  right- 
minded  person  would  think  that  of  you  after  knowing 
you  ten  minutes,  but  all  the  same,  if  something  was  miss- 
ing, nothing  on  earth  would  clear  you  with  people  in  gen- 
eral, of  the  suspicion  of  having  taken  it.  She  often  loses 
things.  She  had  no  right  to  leave  you  here  alone,  with 
doors  open.    Did  she  pay  you  ?" 

"No,  but  that  is  all  right." 

157 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"I  don't  see  how  that  is  all  right.  What  is  your 
charge  ?" 

"One  dollar." 

''How  long  did  yon  work?" 

"Half  a  day ;  a  little  over." 

"Well,  I  am  in  the  contracting  business  myself  and 
have  to  try  to  get  things  done  as  cheap  as  I  can.  You 
would  have  to  do  the  same.  But  I  never  like  to  have  men 
work  below  wages.    What  are  gardeners'  wages  ?" 

I  did  not  want  to  let  him  know  that  I  knew  nothing 
about  that,  so  I  answered  that  the  bargain  had  been  made 
for  one  dollar  and  no  more.  Besides,  his  wife  had  given 
me  lunch. 

"Well,"  he  drawled,  "are  you  not  going  to  charge  extra 
for  that?  I  don't  know  what  the  damage  may  be,  but 
if  you  let  my  wife  work  off  some  of  her  stale  bread  and 
pie  on  you,  why  you  certainly  ought  to  be  paid  extra  for 
that." 

I  gave  a  half  laugh  to  show  that  I  entered  into  his 
humor.  He  handed  me  a  dollar.  I  took  it,  thanking  him, 
and  turned  to  put  on  my  coat,  when  he  asked  me  my  name, 
and  after  a  few  )nore  questions  as  to  where  I  lived,  and 
if  I  boarded  where  I  roomed,  invited  me  to  dine  with 
him  at  some  restaurant  down  town,  where  he  should  have 
to  go  anyhow  to  get  something  to  eat,  as  his  wife  would 
certainly  not  come  home  that  night,  he  knew,  he  said. 

I  glanced  down  at  my  clothes,  but  he  said  to  never  mind 
my  clothes,  because  it  was  one  of  the  good  points  of  our 
city  that  everybody  could  go  very  much  everywhere  with- 
out being  dressed  up. 

I  did  not  like  to  refuse.  In  fact,  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not 
but  accept.  Indeed,  pretty  soon  after  the  first  surprise  in 
my  mood  of  the  day,  I  was  so  gladdened  by  his  kindness 
and  felt  so  thankful  that  I  scarcely  found  words  to  speak 
my  proper  acceptance.  So,  washed  and  cleaned  as  hur- 
riedly as  possible,  I  walked  away  with  him. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

We  spoke,  each  of  us,  but  his  deHberation  of  speech 
was  such  it  could  not  be  called  conversation.  As  we 
turned  into  the  next  street  where  the  blustering  fog- 
laden  wind  had  full  sway,  I  remarked  that  the  evening 
was  more  than  usually  raw,  and  it  was  not  till  we  had 
come  to  the  end  of  that  block  and  turned  again  the  corner 
of  the  next  street  that  he  replied,  "Yes,  very  raw !" 

On  this  street  was  a  car-line,  and  we  boarde-l  a  car  just 
stopping  at  the  crossing  which  brought  us  to  near  the  place 
where  Mr.  De  Lang  wanted  to  go. 

It  was  by  this  vime  night.  The  wind  and  fog  seemed 
worse  than  ever.  When  Mr.  De  Lang  led  me  down  some 
stone  steps  into  a  restaurant  in  the  basement  of  a  large 
building,  a  fair  sized  place,  well  lighted,  warm,  clean  and 
comfortable  looking,  the  change  was  most  agreeable.  He 
seemed  to  be  known  there.  An  impressive  v/aiter  spoke 
to  him  and  conducted  us  to  an  unoccupied  table,  which  he 
prepared  for  us  with  some  show,  bringing  warm,  French 
bread  and  sweet  butter  and  other  things,  and  finally  the 
bill  of  fare,  standing  then  with  clasped  hands  and  watch- 
ing Mr.  De  Lang's  face  during  his  perusal  of  it  with  rapt 
attention  as  if  to  read  his  innermost  thoughts  and  opinions 
of  the  dishes,  and  nervously  eager  to  anticipate  his  orders, 
all  of  which  Mr.  De  Lang  disliked  very  much,  I  could  tell. 

I  expected  Mr.  De  Lang  to  order  fish,  since  he  had  said 
something  about  its  being  fish  day.  However,  he  did 
not.  A  very  good  dinner  came,  and  with  it  a  bottle  of 
claret  that  I  was  to  help  to  drink.  But  as  soon  as  I  as- 
sured Mr.  De  Lang  that  I  was  sworn  to  total  abstinence, 
he  desisted  from  asking  me  to  drink.  A  smaller  bottle 
was  substituted  foi  the  big  one,  and  Mr.  De  Lang  fin- 
ished it  alone.  I  noticed  its  eflfect  on  him,  too,  as  well  as 
his  enjoyment  of  it.  He  had  something  of  that  reserve, 
which  Ullard  maintained,  characterizes  the  true  aristo- 
crat.   But  a  few  glasses  of  wine  seem  to  do  away  with  it, 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

at  least  to  a  certain  extent.    He  did  not  speak  quicker,  but 
in  a  ruder  manner. 

Our  waiter,  hovering  constantly  about  our  table,  never 
moved  away  without  excusing  himself.  The  next  time 
he  repeated  his:  *  "Excuse  me  a  moment,"  Mr.  De  Lang 
emphatically  replied:  "With  pleasure,  with  felicity," 
breaking  out  into  a  loud  guffaw.  The  man  took  it  very 
meekly,  even  smiled  a  little,  but  felt  hurt,  I  could  see. 
And  he  had  waited  on  us  very  properly  only  rather  too  at- 
tentively. 

We  had  by  this  time  come  to  the  end  of  our  dinner  and 
Mr.  De  Lang  was  smoking  and  sipping  his  coffee.  He 
insisted  on  my  taking  a  cigar,  to  smoke  at  some  other 
time,  if  I  did  not  want  to  smoke  it  now. 

"But  I  do  not  smoke  at  all." 

"Well,  take  it  anyhow !  Give  it  to  a  poor  man !  Ha ! 
Ha!" 

So  I  took  it  and  afterwards  gave  it  to  the  waiter. 

Mr.  De  Lang  was  smoking  and  sipping  his  coffee,  some- 
times glancing  at  the  waiter  as  if  half  inclined  to  a  further 
attack  on  him,  who  was  still  hovering  about,  though  at  a 
safer  distance,  sometimes  looking  at  me  till  I  felt  not 
oversure  but  what  he  might  turn  to  whet  his  humor  on  me. 
I  tried  to  think  vhat  to  say  to  draw  his  attention  and 
start  some  conversation,  but  at  last  found  nothing  better 
than  to  ask  him  if  he  knew  of  any  work  for  me. 

He  cried,  "No!"  Presently,  however,  seeing  me  si- 
lenced, and  the  wine  he  had  drunk  not  having  been 
enough,  I  fancy,  to  affect  him  for  any  length  of  time,  he 
seemed  to  come  to  and  corrected  himself,  saying,  "I  don't 
know  but  what  I  do.  I  am  building  a  private  residence 
for  a  Mr.  Mauresse,  an  English  Jew,  where  there  will  be 
some  gardening  to  be  done.  It  might  be  something  for 
you.  I  tell  you,  you  come  to  my  house  to-morrow  morn- 
insr  at   seven  o'clock,   and   I  will  take  vou  over  to  the 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

building  and  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Mauresse.  He  is  al- 
vvays  there  at  that  time.     It  might  get  you  the  job." 

He  had  finished  liis  coffee,  paid  the  waiter,  and  we  rose, 
went  out  into  the  street  and  boarded  a  street  car,  which 
he  hailed  and  wh'ch  took  us  to  the  northern  part  of  the 
town.  Mr.  De  Lang  again  paying  both  our  fares.  At 
some  point  we  were  transferred  to  another  car  line  up  to  a 
certain  crossing,  where  we  separated,  never  during  all 
this  time  exchanging  a  single  word,  except  at  parting  bid- 
ding each  other  good-by  and  I  thanking  him  for  all  his 
kindness  and  promising  to  be  at  his  house  early  in  the 
morning,  he  holding  up  his  finger  and  saying,  ''Seven." 

At  home  I  found  Mr.  Carpenter  still  up  and  waiting  for 
some  music,  which  I  was  glad  enough  to  furnish  him 
before  we  went  to  bed. 

He  knows  Mr.  De  Lang,  he  says,  by  reputation  as  a 
very  good  man. 

This  morning  I  took  care  to  be  at  Mr.  De  Lang's  a 
little  before  the  aopointed  hour.  I  found  Mr.  De  Lang 
in  his  shirt  sleeves  going  to  put  his  mare  in  harness,  which 
I  asked  him  to  let  ine  do  for  him,  while  he  finished  dress- 
ing, and  it  was  not  long  before  I  was  sitting  in  the  bugg}^ 
by  his  side,  being  rapidly  driven  in  the  direction  of  the  big 
park. 

T  asked  Mr.  De  Lang  if  his  wife  was  back  when  he 
returned  after  our  dinner.  He  said  no,  and  she  was  not 
home  yet ;  he  supposed  she  had  stayed  at  her  sister's  all 
night ;  he  would  go  round  by  and  by  and  see. 

Before  I  spoke,  I  felt  as  though  I  must  inquire.  Now  I 
felt  as  if  I  ought  not  to  have  done  it.  There  is  certainly 
something  about  Mr.  De  Lang  that  forbids  one's  taking 
liberties  with  him. 

He  did  not  speak  again  till  we  had  reached  Mr.  Mau- 
resse's  new  residence,  a  very  fine  building  nearly  com- 
pleted, in  a  very  fine  location  on  the  corner  of  two  main 
streets,  and  on  a  lot  large  enough  to  leave  a  broad  margin 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

on  both  streets.  This  margin,  I  judge,  to  be  designed 
for  the  grounds,  jr  flower  garden.  I  told  Mr.  De  Lang 
so  and  he  nodded,  and  before  getting  out  of  the  buggy 
proceeded  to  give  me  a  few  points  as  to  my  task. 

"This  Mr.  Mauresse,"  he  said,  ''is  very  rich  and  about 
as  close  as  he  is  rich.  You  must  stick  up  for  your  price 
or  he  will  beat  you  down  to  nothing.  But  outside  of  that 
he  is  all  right,  and  once  he  has  agreed  to  a  price,  it  is  as 
good  as  cash  paid.  He  had  from  some  gardener  some 
kind  of  plan  for  this  place  with  an  estimate  of  cost.  But 
he  does  not  like  the  plan,  or  most  likely  he  does  not  like 
the  cost.  Now,  I  am  going  to  tell  him  that  you  want  to 
give  him  a  bid  on  his  gardening." 

''But,  excuse  me,  Mr.  De  Lang,"  I  interrupted  him, 
"if  he  already  has  engaged  a  gardener,  I  should  hate  to 
interfere." 

"Well,"  he  drawled,  "how  are  you  going  to  do?  Do 
you  suppose  you  can  make  any  some  sort  of  living  without 
interfering  with  somebody?  And  who  said  engaged? 
It  is  all  fair  competition.  You  need  not  see  the  other 
man's  plan.     Make  your  own  plan!     I  suppose  you  can." 

"Oh,  yes !"  I  answered.  "I  am  not  so  very  much  of  a 
draughtsman ;  in  fact,  that  is  my  weak  point.  But  I  can 
get  up  a  plan  of  grounds  and  a  perspective  sketch.  I  have 
some  sketches  at  my  place  and  some  designs  by  the  man 
I  used  to  work  with,  who  was  an  excellent  landscape  gar- 
dener. But  I  have  no  drawing  instruments  but  a  couple 
of  pens,  no  drawing  boards,  no  paper,  nothing  in  truth  to 
work  with." 

He  did  not  speak  for  quite  a  little  while,  getting  out  of 
the  buggy  and  tying  his  mare  to  a  hitching  post  at  the 
curb.  It  looked  indeed  as  if  I  had  effectually  silenced 
him.  But  when  he  had  taken  a  blanket  from  the  buggy 
and  put  it  on  the  horse  and  made  everything  about  the 
horse  and  buggy  snug,  he  turned  to  me  and,  speaking 
more  slowly  than  ever,  said: 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"In  my  house  is  a  room,  my  office  I  call  it,  where  I  do 
my  figuring  and  such  drawing  as  it  is.  You  can  work 
there.  Everything  is  there :  drawing  boards,  paper,  water- 
colors,  brushes,  pens  and  dividers.  You  can  work  there 
if  that  is  all.  You  can  work  there  if  that  is  all,  he  re- 
peated as  I  hesitated  to  speak,  because,  truly,  I  did  not 
know  what  to  say. 

As  we  were  thus  standing  another  buggy  came  driving 
up  with  two  gentlemen  in  it,  both  calling  Mr.  De  Lang  by 
name  and  bidding  him  the  time  of  day.  He  returned  the 
salutation,  saying  to  me  : 

'There  he  is  now,  with  the  architect." 
Waiting  quietly  till  the  two  had  come  to  us,  he  ad- 
dressed the  shorter  one : 

"Mr.  :^Iauresse,  this  is  ^Ir.  Eguren,  a  landscape  gar- 
dener, who  would  like  to  give  you  a  bid  on  the  laying  out 
of  these  grounds  on  a  plan  of  his  own,"  he  explained. 

"A  gardener?"  cried  Mr.  Mauresse,  '*a  bid?  Well, 
perhaps !  But  I  have  a  pretty  good  plan  already.  I  don't 
know.  What  is  the  use  of  another  damned  plan.  What 
is  it  going  to  cost?" 

I  glanced  appealingl)  at  Mr.  De  Lang,  and  he  came  to 

mv  assistance. 

'"To  make  any  kind  of  plan,"  he  said,  turning  to  me, 
"could  you  do  it  for  twenty-five  dollars?" 

"Yes,"  I  answererl  rather  quickly,  "I  think  I  could  do 

it  for  that." 

"I  tell  you  what."  broke  in  Mr.  :Mauresse,  "T  am  a  Jew, 

I  give  you  half." 

"Well,"  returned  Mr  De  Lang  sharply,  "I  am  not " 

then  he  seemed  to  bethink  himself,  and,  turning  again 
to  me,  asked:  "Could  you  do  it  for  fifteen  dollars,  Mr. 
Eguren?  Of  course,''  he  went  on,  "Mr.  Mauresse  would 
not  expect  more  than  a  sketch  for  that  amount ;  something 
to  convey  an  idea  of  what  is  intended  and  enough  to  make 

an  estimate  on." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

'Ten  dollars  cash  on  delivery,"  called  out  Mr.  Mau- 
resse. 

Nobody  spoke.  Tt  was  quite  laughable.  Mr.  Mauresse 
was  eying  me,  looking  as  eager  for  an  acceptance  of  his 
offer  as  I  was  eager  to  accept.  But  I  was  at  the  same 
time  wanting  not  to  act  contrary  to  Mr.  De  Lang's  idea 
of  what  I  ought  to  do;  and  he  had  such  an  expression  of 
disgust  in  his  face  that  I  felt  sure  he  wanted  me  to  say 
something  sharp,  which  came  not  into  my  head.  The 
architect  stood  by  looking  unfathomably  wise. 

At  last  Mr.  De  Lang  spoke  again  to  me,  ignoring  Mr. 
Mauresse. 

"Could  you  do  it  to-day?"  he  queried.  ''Could  you 
finish  the  sketch  bv  five  o'clock,  and  could  you  do  it  for 
fifteen  dollars?" 

''I  tell  you  what,"  coaxed  Mr.  Mauresse,  "you  do  it 
and  bring  it  to  my  office  this  afternoon  by  three  o'clock,  no 
later,  and  I  will  pay  you  ten  dollars !  You  bring  it  to  my 
office  and  get  your  money.  Cash!  Three  o'clock!  No 
later !  Not  a  second  !  A  nice  sketch !  Make  me  a  nice 
sketch!  Afterwards  you  can  bid  on  it.  But,  mind  you, 
the  plan  belongs  to  me." 

Mr.  De  Lang  made  another  effort.  "It  would  not  be 
fair,"  he  resumed,  "to  give  the  ideas  of  one  man  to  an- 
other man.  It  is  the  idea  that  is  valuable.  Here  is  a 
fine  residence,  one  of  the  handsomest  dwellings  in  town  on 
a  most  prominent  corner,  passed  by  everybody  going 
to  or  coming  from  the  park.  It  is  a  fine,  large  lot.  The 
right  idea  for  the  plotti-ig  of  the  grounds  will  make  the 
whole  beautiful.  The  wrong  idea  will  spoil  all.  You 
make  your  sketch  for  fifteen  dollars  and  let  Mr.  Mauresse 
take  it  and  show  it  to  his  v/ife.  If  they  adopt  the  idea 
and  have  it  carried  out  and  do  not  give  you  the  job,  then 
he  should  pay  you  another  fifteen  dollars." 

"No!"  shouted  Mr.  Mauresse,  "I  will  give  fifteen  dol- 
lars by  three  o'clock,  and  not  a  cent  more.    And  the  plan 

164 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  PLANUS 

belongs  to  me.  That  is  all.  If  it  was  not  for  that  other 
fellow  wanting  to  cheat  me  I  would  not  give  a  nickel  for 
the  finest  plan  I  could  get,  so  help  me  God!" 

I  said,  "All  right,  Mr.  Mauresse,"  and  the  matter  was 
settled.  Mr.  De  Lang  went  with  the  architect  into  the 
building  while  Mr.  Mauresse  walked  over  the  grounds 
with  me,  on  purpose  it  would  seem  to  privately  assure 
me  that  his  wife's  brother,  his  father's  cousin,  and  another 
blood  relation,  were  all  going  to  build  next  spring  fine 
dwellings  on  large  lots,  where  there  would  be  fine  large 
grounds,  and  that  he  would  do  his  best  to  get  me  that 
work  if  I  did  right  by  him  and  in  the  first  place  made 
him  a  nice  sketch.  After  that  he  passed  into  the  house, 
and  I  went  over  the  grounds  again,  took  some  notes  and 
was  just  going  to  borrow  a  pocket  rule  from  one  of  the 
journeymen  carpenters  working  on  the  back  fence,  to 
make  some  measurements  when  Mr.  De  Lang  reappeared, 
asked  what  I  was  about,  and  told  me  to  get  into  the  buggy 
and  go  to  his  hou'^e  with  him,  where  I  should  find  copies 
of  all  the  drawings  for  the  house,  and  sizes  and  surveys 
of  the  lot,  complete,  so  that  I  need  not  stop  to  take  any 
measurements. 

As  we  drove  off  T  asked  him  to  drive  round  by  my  room 
that  I  might  get  some  sketches  of  garden  plots  out  of  my 
box.  This  he  did,  and  then  took  me  to  his  house,  where 
we  found  his  wife  had  come  home.  I  did  not  see  them 
meet,  as  he  brought  me  directly  into  his  workroom  or 
office,  and  showed  me  in  a  closet  some  drawing  boards 
with  paper  ready  stretched,  and  the  copies  of  Mr.  Mau- 
resse's  house's  plans  and  the  instruments,  and  saw  me 
fairly  started  before  he  left  me  to  go  to  the  rear  of  the 
house,  where  his  wife  could  be  heard  singing. 

He  did  not  come  back  to  me.  I  saw  him  drive  away 
some  time  afterwards.  I  surmised  he  had  told  his  wife 
not  to  disturb  me,  as  she  did  not  come  near  me,  though  I 
vva^  somewhat  curious  to  see  her. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

At  my  work  I  followed  Ullard's  advice:  Take  right 
hold!  Go  for  the  main  object!  Ideas  come  as  the  work 
goes  on.  If  utterly  at  loss  where  to  begin,  begin  some- 
where, anywhere !  And  I  got  along  strangely  well.  Some 
drawings  in  Mr.  De  Lang's  case  assisted  me  wonderfully. 
For  the  markings  of  the  flower  beds  and  all  the  coloring 
and  shading  I  followed  the  prettiest  ones  of  Ullard's  old 
sketches  and  designs  all  through. 

Some  time,  near  two  o'clock,  just  as  I  had  finished  my 
job,  a  knock  came  on  my  door  and  Mrs.  De  Lang  asked : 
"May  I  come  in?" 

She  really  has  a  musical  voice. 

I  jumped  off  my  stool  and  opened  the  door,  and  she 
stood  before  me,  lovely. 

She  held  a  tray  in  her  hand  with  some  eatables.  "I 
brought  you  some  lunch,"  said  she.  ''Mr.  De  Lang  told 
me  I  must  leave  you  alone,  but,  my  life!  you  cannot  do 
without  eating.  Is  that  your  garden  plot?  Why,  it  is 
beautiful.  I  never!  I  did  never  see  anything  so  awfully 
pretty  in  all  my  life.  It  is  far  prettier  than  the  other  gar- 
den plan  Mr.  De  Lang  showed  me  that  Mr.  Moses  paid 
fifty  dollars  for,  rver  so  much  prettier.  It  is  perfectly 
lovely." 

"I  suppose  Mr.  De  Lang  told  you  to  encourage  me  if 
you  spoke  to  me  at  all,"  I  said. 

She  laughed  and  told  me  to  eat  my  lunch,  which  I 
started  to  do,  she  remaining  in  the  room,  standing  with 
the  half-open  door  between  her  open  hands,  her  cheek 
lightly  pressed  against  the  edge  of  it  where  her  hands 
held  it. 

Between  eating  and  drinking,  I  remarked,  "You  did  not 
come  home  last  night." 

"Oh!"  she  replied,  "I  went  to  sister's  just  to  see  how 
the  baby  was,  you  know.  And,  don't  you  know,  I  was 
taken  that  sick,  the  sickest  I  ever  was  in  all  my  life.  I 
had  a  pain  right  here.     Frank  thought  I  had  pneumonia 

1 66 


CHRONICLES  OF  MASUEL  ALANUS 

z\v\  sent  a  messenger  boy  with  a  message  to  my  husband. 
But,  you  know,  the  boy  clid  not  find  my  husband  home  and 
left  tlie  message  lext  door  but  one  with  the  skinny  old 
woman,  and  she  never  dehvered  it  till  this  morning  w'hen 
my  husband  had  gone  and  I  had  come  home  ""O^self .  Now, 
did  you  hear  of  anything  so  mean  in  all  your  life  ?" 

All  this  she  spoke  with  a  pitiful  expression  in  her  dimp- 
ling countenance  that  made  me  smile. 

"But  you  are  feeling  all  right  now?"  I  inquired. 
She  answered  yes,  but  it  was  a  very  doubtful  yes.     "If 
you  are  not,"  I  rejoined,  "your  illness  is  very  becoming, 
I  must  say,  whatever  it  is." 

She  laughed  again  and  seemed  ready  for  more  conver- 
sation ;  but  I  had  to  go.  I  rolled  up  my  drawing  and  my 
sketches,  gave  her  my  thanks,  walked  over  to  my  room, 
where  I  left  my  sketches,  and  took  my  drawing  to  Mr. 
Mauresse's  place  of  business,  which  I  found  according  to 
description,  not  far  from  the  Stock  Exchange.  I  arrived 
there  five  minutes  ahead  of  the  appointed  time,  but  Mr. 
:\Iauresse  had  been  already  somewhat  nervously  awaiting 
mv  coming. 

I  handed  him  the  drawing.     He  unrolled  it  and  I  saw 
immediately  that  't  pleased  him,  although  he  uttered  not 
one  word  of  comment.     Several  young  gentlemen,  clerks 
they  seemed  to  be,  that  were  in  the  place,  collected  around 
him  to  look  at  the  drawing,  some  others  came  out  of  an 
inner  ofiice,  some  by  the  elevator  from  stories  above,  and 
some  more  from  somewhere  else,  all  crowding  up  to  ^Ar. 
Mauresse  most  familiarly,  talking  German,  French,  Eng- 
lish.   They  all  looked  like  relatives  with  very  pronounced 
TTcbrew  features.     Some  stared  at  me  rather  disdainfully 
and  one  made  a  remark  in  French :  I  did  not  altogether 
understand  it,  but  enough  to  know  that  he  expressed  a 
doubt  that  T  had  made  the  sketch  myself,  and  that  T  was  a 
gardener  at  all.     Though  why  this  should  be,  and  what 
there  was  in  my  appearance  to  raise  any  such  opposition, 

167 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

I  do  not  kiiow.  Except  that  some  people  ma>  belittle  the 
eilorts  of  others  and  make  a  show  of  discrediting  their 
abilities  and  mistrusting  their  character  from  just  pure 
crossness,  and  perhaps  to  give  themselves  an  air  of  su- 
periority. 

And  now  Mr.  Mauresse  began  to  ask  me  a  good  many 
(jiiestions  about  my  design,  about  the  plants,  the  soil  and 
other  particulars,  may  be  to  get  as  much  information  as 
])ossible  out  of  m'),  or  to  convince  himself  that  I  knew 
something  about  gardening,  or  to  give  me  the  chance  of 
proving  myself  something  of  a  gardener,  since  he  had 
noticed,  I  think,  that  I  had  caught  the  sense  of  the  ex- 
pressed doubt.  H'j  had  not  proceeded  very  far  in  this 
examination,  however,  when  he  told  one  of  the  young 
people  who  seemed  to  be  the  cashier,  to  pay  me  fifteen  dol- 
lars gold  coin,  for  which  I  had  to  sign  a  receipt  giving 
the  absolute  use  of  my  design  to  Mr.  Mauresse. 

"You  see,"  exclaimed  that  gentleman,  "I  pay  on  the 
nail.  Others  would  make  you  wait,  run,  come  a  dozen 
times.  With  me  you  never  have  to  wait  one  second.  You 
get  your  money  right  away.    Were  you  ever  in  Paris  ?" 

"In  Paris,  France?    No,  sir." 

"Well,  I  thought !    But  you  understand  French  ?" 

"Only  just  what  little  I  learned  in  school,  that  I  have 
not  forgotten.'' 

"Well,  I  thought  I  had  seen  something  like  your  design 
in  Paris.  Not  far  from  where  we  lived  was  a  house  with 
grounds ;  you  never  saw  it  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  I  said,  and  I  could  not  help  asking:  "Did  you 
live  in  Paris?" 

"I,  that  is,  my  family,  lived  there  three  years.  I  was 
there  half  of  the  lime.  My  family  came  back  from  there 
only  four  months  ago." 

It  v/as  rising  in  me  to  ask,  had  he  seen,  did  he  know,  had 
be  heard  of  Mahon?  But  I  could  not  force  myself  to  it 
at  the  moment,  and  the  next  I  was  dismissed. 

i68 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"I  make  no  promises/'  proclaimed  Mr.  Mauresse,  ''but 
vou  may  hear  from  me  soon." 

'  I  walked  down  to  the  foot  of  Market  street  to  look  for 
Mr  Dugan  at  the  Ferry  Station,  and  buy  some  papers 
from  him  out  of  my  wealth.  He  was  not  there.  At 
lea'^t,  I  did  not  see  him.  Thence  I  walked  all  the  way 
back  to  Mr.  De  Lang's  house,  only  to  find  the  doors 
locked,  nobody  at  home,  nor  the  horse  m  the  stable,  itie 
rubber  garden  hose  was  lying  at  the  cellar  door  as  if  it 
had  hurriedly  been  thrown  down  there.  I  took  it  up  and, 
after  giving  the  garden  a  thorough  wetting,  put  it  away 
in  its  place  with  a  pencil  note  stuck  in  its  nozzle  telling 
Mr.  De  Lang  that  I  had  got  my  money  from  Mr.  Mau- 

resse 

It  was  by  this  time  quite  late  and  I  was  rather  hungry. 
I  thought  I  would  go  to  the  same  restaurant  where  I  had 
been  the  evening  before  with  Mr.  De  Lang,  and  that  I 
would  Pgain  have  z.  fine  dinner  there,  I  felt  ^o  rich.     1 
even  had  a  lurking  idea  I  might  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  De 
Lang  there  and  would  then  invite  them  to  have  dinner 
with  me.     But  I  did  nothing  of  this.     I  walked  through 
the  streets  down  hill  till  I  came  to  an  Italia-  restaurant 
that  took  my  fancy,  where  I  went  in,  and  where  they 
aave  me  a  good  dinner,  plain  and  clean,  for  twenty  cents 
tncluding  a  tumbler  of  claret,  for  which  they  substituted 
an  extra  dish  of  salad  when  I  told  them  I  drank  no  wme. 
Coming  home  to  my  room  from  there,  I  found  Mr. 
Carpenter  awaiting  me,  not  to  have  me  play  for  him,  but 
to  propose  and  urge  my  acceptance  of  a  programme  for 
to-morrow.     He  and  his  wife  were  going  across  the  bay 
to  visit  some  friends  living  somewhere  in  the  hills  beyond 
Fruitvale,  back  of  Oakland,  and  he  invited  me  to  come 
with  them,  bring  my  banjo,  my  mandolin  and  my  guitar 
which  he  had  brought  home  ready  mended  by  his  friend 
as  he  had  promised,  and  to  spend  the  day  with  them.     A 

169 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

birthday  party  it  w  as  to  be,  and  my  playing  would  ever  so 
much  help  to  make  the  party  a  success,  he  assured  me. 

I  found  it  very  hard  to  get  clear  of  accept-ng  the  invi- 
tation, especially  since  I  felt  myself  under  obligation  to 
him  for  the  repairing,  free  of  charge,  of  my  guitar.  And 
I  knew  he  was  sincere,  too,  in  professing  to  wish  me  to 
come.     But  I  am  as  yet  too  near  the  jail. 

He  was  extremely  persistent,  and  for  a  time  would  not 
take  no  for  an  answer.  I  shall  have  to  leave  the  house 
very  early  to-morrow  morning,  or  I  may  be  subject  to 
another  attack  by  him.  , 

I  must  say,  though,  there  was  something  agreeable  in 
being  thus  pressed  to  make  one  of  the  party.  Certainly  I 
must  like  it,  because  it  shows  that  I  am  regarded  as  an 
equal.  And  even  if  the  object  was  not  just  my  personal 
company,  comfort,  pleasure,  but  rather  the  music  I  was 
to  furnish,  it  still  was  kindly  meant,  and,  yes !  for  my 
pleasure  and  company  as  well  as  theirs,  being  part  of  the 
general  amusement  the  general  entertainment.  I  under- 
stand that  very  well.  And  I  do  no  less  hate  the  refusing 
of  such  a  request.  I  never  like  to  deny  anybody  any- 
thing of  that  kind  I  can  grant,  which  I  know  to  be  truly 
desired  and  wished  for.  Not  that  I  wanted  to  go.  I 
did  not  want  to  go.  I  cannot  go.  I  first  must  be  more 
humanized.  But  I  certainly  liked  being  importuned  to 
go.  And  it  all  joins  on  to  the  flow  of  spirits  that  is  in 
me  since  a  few  mornings.  I  remember  Ullard  saying 
once:  "Sometimes  something  sets  in  like  a  current  in  our 
mind  or  soul  and  ^hen  everything  seems  to  feed  it." 

It  is  so  with  me  now.  A  current  has  set  in  in  my 
thoughts  and  feelings,  a  hopefulness,  a  certainty  of  hap- 
piness to  come  and  every  experience  helps  to  swell  it  and 
boom  it  along,  even  to  my  succeeding  so  well  in  making 
a  little  water-color  sketch  and  receiving  v.diat  must  appear 
to  me  an  exorbitant  price  for  it,  and  my  landlord  wanting 
me  to  go  with  him  to  a  birthday  part3\ 

I/O 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Is  it  not  strange^  Only  a  few  days  have  gone  by  and 
it  is  as  if  I  had  entered  on  a  new  Ufe.  And  have  I  not? 
I  have  not  wanted  to  think  about  it,  but  I  have  known  the 
reason  of  it  all,  the  true  reason  of  my  exuberant  spirits 
ri-ht  along.  It  is  because  of  what  that  young  fellow  of  a 
clerk  of  the  Tern  Oldock  Company  told  me  of  Mahon  s 
no  longer  living  in  Europe,  but  in  Boston  with  Mr.  Tern 
Oldock,  from  where  they  may  come  here  any  time 

Of  course,  I  know  there  may  be  a  hundred  and  one 
reasons  why  Mahon  should  be  paying  his  father  and  this 
country  only  a  flying  visit  and  go  back  to  Europe  without 
taking  a  run  out  to  the  Pacific  coast,  but  however  much 
afraid  of  being  misled  by  my  wishes  I  may  mistrust  my 
iudgment   I  cannot  make  it  appear  to  me  otherwise  than 
moft  reasonable  that  he  will  take  this  run  out  here  now. 
He  never  having  been  back  here,  his  father  not  having 
been  here  for  a  long  time,  their  interests  here  being  so 
lar-e    IMahon  having  left  Europe  and  come  to  this  coun- 
try" it  all  points  one  way:  Mahon  has  gone  to  Boston  to 
come   on   here   with  his   father.     Who  knows  but  what 
they  are  on  their  way  now.     Indeed,  the  way  that  young 
clerk  spoke,  I  take  it  as  a  fact  that  Mahon  has  given  up 
living  in  foreign  parts  altogether  and  come  to  this  coun- 
try to  live,  and  that  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  before 

he  appears  here.  vi   ^  . 

Why  not  go  to  Boston?  I  feel  so  rich  to-day  with  my 
fifteen  dollars  in  my  inside  pocket,  as  if  I  could  make  that 
much  every  day  now.  How  far  should  I  get  with  what  1 
have^  Or  whv  not  write?  But  I  could  not  write.  And 
I  could  not  meet  them  that  way.  I  might  miss  them,  too. 
I  know  just  what  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  would  say  if  he  saw 
me  He  would  call  out,  ''Halloh !  Manuel !"  And  he  would 
hold  out  his  hand  to  me  and  point  to  the  mark  of  my 
teeth.    I  don't  know  what  Mahon  would  say  and  do. 

The  night  is  far  advanced  and  very  dark.  From  my 
window  I  see  few  lights  in  the  fog.    But  my  room  looks 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

pleasant  in  the  lamplight.  It  is  cleanly  kept,  if  poor  and 
scant  of  furniture:  the  oilcloth  on  the  floor  patched  in 
many  places ;  in  one  corner  a  washed-out,  striped,  muslin 
curtain  like  a  long,  wide  apron  hung  round  a  large,  quar- 
ter-round shelf  with  screwed-in  hooks  to  serve  for  a 
clothes  closet  or  wardrobe;  and  lace  curtains,  rather  full 
of  holes,  like  shorter  aprons,  over  the  glass  in  the  door  and 
window  sash;  in  the  other  corner  of  the  room  the  bed 
leaning  from  the  wall  like  in  a  stress  of  bad  weather; 
across  the  third  corner  the  combination  bureau  and  wash- 
stand,  the  drawers  of  which  at  one  time  stick  in  a  vicious 
way  not  to  be  overcome  by  force  or  strategy,  and  the  next 
come  tumbling  out  all  three  of  them  if  one  is  but  slightly 
touched ;  a  nervous  table  that  moved  uneasily  as  one 
walks  the  floor,  and  two  chairs  of  which  one  tall  and  ele- 
gant in  a  faded  way,  looks  down  most  patronizingly  on  the 
other,  meek  and  weak  little  thing  with  a  lame  back  in  the 
fourth  corner  behind  the  door. 

August. 

Mr.  Carpenter  did  make  another  attempt  this  morning 
to  persuade  me  into  joining  him  and  his  wife  in  their 
expedition  to  Oakland.  However,  as  they  had  to  start 
early  and  had  been  rather  late  in  getting  up,  he  had  to  cut 
his  endeavors  short. 

I  left  the  house  :is  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  and 
first  went  to  Mr.  De  Lang's  place,  where  everything  gave 
evidence  that  nobody  was  home,  as  on  the  evening  before, 
nor  in  all  probabili!-y  would  be  home  all  this  day.  At  the 
little  restaurant  round  the  corner  of  my  street,  where  I 
now  every  morning  eat  my  bowl  of  oatmeal,  I  came  in  a 
daily  paper  across  an  item  stating  that  there  had  been 
during  the  last  few  days  some  good  fishing  off  the  wharves 
and  it  gave  me  the  idea  to  go  down  to  the  wharves  to 
see  what  was  going  on  there,  and  perhaps  to  do  a  little 
fishing  myself.  I  bought  a  large  loaf  of  French  bread  for 
a  nickel,  and  for  another  nickel  some  olives  and  dates  to 

172 


CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

have  for  lunch,  and  started  for  the  nearest  \\harf.  But 
I  had  not  gone  fa-  before  I  found  the  weather  so  dis- 
agreeable that  I  turned  back  and  took  my  lunch  home,  to 
my  room. 

The  wind  jars  the  old  house.  I  feel  its  chill  even  m- 
side.  Dust  and  fog  and  smoke  sweep  by  in  wild  sheets, 
blurring  the  aspect  of  even  the  nearer  houses,  f.  rift  some- 
times disclosing  a  portion  of  the  lower  town-parts  in  a 
white  dead  glare  of  sunshine,  and  a  lead-colored  streak 
of  bay  with  the  hills  of  the  opposite  shore  in  their  bare- 
ness, ashy-drab,  half  veiled  to  the  base  and  rising  into 
fogg>'  nothingness. 

A  typical  San  Francisco  summer  day ! 
It  brings  back  to  me  that  day,  the  last  day  on  the  old 
wharf,  only  that  day  was  worse.     A  vision  of  the  past 
has  come  over  me. 

We  had  had  a  couple  of  calm,  hot  days,  and  as  is  always 
then  the  case,  when  the  sea  trades  did  set  in  again  they 
came  with  double  force.  The  morning  was  fine  but,  after- 
wards all  was  bluster  and  dampness.  In  those  days,  too, 
there  was  more  flv^ing  sand  and  dust  and  dirt  from  un- 
paved  streets  and  empty  lots. 

It  was  after  dinner.  I  had  been  down  the  boat  steps 
to  pick  up  the  stump  of  a  large,  broken  oar  that  had 
drifted  against  them  from  somewhere.  I  remember  no- 
ticing as  perhaps  many  times  before,  how  funny  it  looked ; 
the  fog  driving  low  over  the  water,  not  at  all  as  if  the 
fog  was  moving,  but  as  if  the  water  was  rushing  back- 
ward under  it.  They  were  both  going  the  same  way,  the 
tide  was  coming  in  fast,  but  the  fog  was  going  much  the 

faster. 

I  had  dragged  the  oar  stump  up  the  steps  to  the  yard 
by  the  shed  to  saw  it  up  for  firewood,  when  all  at  once 
there  stood  Jim,  the  bricklayer,  before  me. 

I  knew  him  right  away.  It  was  no  different  than  if  I 
had  seen  him  the  week  before.     I  was  glad  to  see  him. 

173 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

He  had  always  been  good  to  us  children.  And  with  me, 
I  have  a  recollection,  he  had  been  even  more  easy  and 
friendly  than  with  all  the  rest.  I  was  very  glad  to  see 
him ;  it  made  me  feel  quite  warm.  I  showed  him  my  boots 
that  were  new  yet,  and  he  showed  me  his  trousers  and 
said  they  were  new.  And  as  he  did  so,  it  came  to  my 
mind  that  he  had  always  been  a  little  touched  on  trousers 
and  had  liked  us  children  to  admire  them  wdien  he  had 
gotten  himself  a  new  pair.  So  I  said  they  looked  fine, 
which  they  did. 

Then  he  talked  about  the  other  children,  asking  me  if  I 
still  knew  their  names,  which  I  found  I  did.  And  other 
things  he  asked  me :  What  I  remembered  of  the  dark 
woman,  his  wife,  and  the  times  I  lived  with  her  and  him, 
and  about  Antonio,  the  vegetable  man,  whom  I  had  not 
had  a  single  thought  of  for  a  very  long  time. 

As  we  children,  all  of  us  had  been  accustomed  to  call 
him  father,  I  had  done  that  now,  when  he  said  somewhat 
short:  *'I  am  not  your  father." 

I  knew  that  very  well.  I  had  always  known  that  he 
was  not  my  real  father,  only  he  spoke  in  such  a  curious 
way,  it  made  me  ask.  "Well,  who  is  then?" 

"Well,"  he  replied,  ''that  w^e  shall  have  time  to  find  out." 

And  he  proceeded  to  tell  me,  how  his  wife,  the  Dark 
Woman,  one  day  had  brought  me  home  from  her  dying 
sister  Adelita.  But  I  was  not  her  child.  I  had  been  left 
with  her  by  a  man  with  a  red  beard  and  a  scar  on  the 
cheek.  But  I  was  not  his  child.  He  had  only  found  me 
among  some  native  Calif ornians,  down  the  coast.  But  I 
did  not  belong  to  them,  I  had  only  been  cast  away  in  a 
shipwreck  near  tlunr  ranchery  with  my  mother.  And 
she  was  dead. 

As  he  spoke  there  had  come  to  me  dim  recollections  of 
a  woman  with  beautiful,  blind  eyes,  of  a  man  with  big, 
bushy,  red  whiskeis,  and  an  ugly  cut  eyebrow  from  a 
horse's  kick.     I  knew  it  was  from  a  horse'r  kick.     And 

174 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

other  recollections  were  there,  still  dimmer  of  dark- 
skinned  men  and  women  and  children,  whom  I  had  al- 
ways known  that  T  had  been  amongst,  as  I  had  always 
known  that  my  mother  was  dead. 

And  then  Jim  was  gone  and  nothing  remained  of  all 
thought  of  him  and  his  words  but  some  notion  of  the 
queerness  and  strangeness  of  things. 

Tt  was  evening.  It  was  growing  dark  fast  with  the 
thickness  of  the  fog,  but  it  would  be  lighter  after  the 
moon  had  risen.  I  was  at  the  foot  of  our  wharf.  I 
don't  know  what  had  brought  me  there,  what  I  was  there 
for,  but  I  believe  1  was  on  the  watch  for  the  man,  my 
friend.  I  was  never  allowed  inside  the  shanty  by  my  two 
masters,  except  for  some  housework,  and  of  late  I  had 
often  felt  lonesonLe  evenings  and  restless  with  wanting 
my  friend,  always  longing  for  him  to  come.  I  seem  to 
remember  that  I  felt  as  though  I  had  something  special 
to  tell  him  this  night. 

Suddenly  his  figure  loomed  up  through  the  fog  close 
1)y.  1  ran  to  him.  He  caught  my  outstretched  hands 
in  his.  And  the  moment  he  touched  me.  it  was  not  he. 
It  was  another  man,  a  strange  man,  somebody  I  did  not 
know  at  all. 

"Manuel  ?"  he  cLiUed. 
I  told  him  "Yes!" 
"By  God,  this  is  lucky." 

I  remember  this,  the  way  he  uttered  it,  the  voice,  my 
own  wondering,  wiiat  was  lucky  and  why.  But  now  all 
grows  confused. 

I  always  have  had  the  impression  that  I  understood  I 
was  to  go  with  this  strange  man  to  see  my  friend,  who 
had  sent  him  to  fetch  me,  he  himself  being  laid  up,  hav- 
ing broken  his  leg  and  wanting  to  see  me  very  much.  I 
judge  I  must  have  been  told  this  then  or  how  could  I 
have  the  impression  ?    But  I  do  not  remember  it. 

What  I  remember  is  being  drawn  along  by  the  strange 

T75 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

man  in  the  darkness ;  the  wind  on  my  face  and  the  fog 
with  the  taste  of  dust  in  it ;  the  sound  of  the  surf  of  the 
bay  in  my  ears,  strangely  loud  and  near,  and  my  thinking 
that  it  must  be  getting  on  to  low  water  now,  the  surf 
always  sounding  louder  then ;  the  ground  under  foot 
rough  with  rocks  of  some  filling-in,  gradually  getting  more 
even  and  smooth  with  crushed  stone  and  gravel,  where 
to  my  knowing  lately  a  new  street  had  been  graded  and 
macadamized  and  the  blocks  of  ground  to  each  side  di- 
vided off  in  builchng  lots,  all  fenced  in,  but  with  no 
houses  built  as  yet ;  in  the  thick  fog  a  few  dim,  hazy 
lights :  and  all  this  vime  the  strange  man  never  loosening 
his  hold  on  my  wrist,  dragging  me  along,  urging  me  on  to 
hurry,  till  we  come  to  a  horse  and  buggy,  where  we  stop. 

The  strange  man  has  a  flask  he  has  taken  out  of  the 
buggy.  He  wantb  me  to  drink  out  of  it.  He  has  un- 
corked it  with  his  teeth  and  holds  it  to  my  lips.  I  don't 
want  to  drink  and  draw  back  and  commence  to  struggle 
to  get  my  wrist  out  of  his  grasp,  when  immediately  I  am 
struck  down  on  my  back,  he  kneeling  on  my  arms,  sitting 
on  me.  His  hand  is  gripping  my  throat,  the  nails  cutting 
the  skin,  the  flask  is  pushed  into  my  mouth,  the  drink 
pouring  down,  burning  a  little,  tasting  nasty,  and  burning 
more,  seeming  to  burn  still  more  with  the  weight  of  him 
on  me  keeping  me  down,  his  finger  closing  sometimes  on 
my  throat  as  if  to  ;>trangle  me. 

At  last  he  is  ofl^  me.  T  am  on  my  feet  to  run  and 
fall ;  up  again  and  down  again  on  my  knees.  I  hear  him 
laugh.  I  am  up  again,  but  I  cannot  keep  on  my  feet.  A 
horrible  dizziness  is  on  me.  The  street  rises  to  my  head. 
The  ground  turns  under  me  and  flings  me  round.  The 
stones  I  clutch  slip  and  slide  with  me  and  come  reeling 
after  me. 

And  now  I  feel  the  burning  of  the  drink  in  me  all  the 
way  down,  hotter  and  hotter  like  fire,  with  pains  shoot- 
ing all  through  me.     I  see  flashes  in  my  eyes  and  sparks 

176 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

inside  my  head.  The  dim,  hazy  Hghts  come  bulging  out 
of  the  fog  and  are  sucked  back  and  swell  near  again, 
drawn  into  hideous,  flaming,  whirling  shapes,  filling  all 
the  air,  writhing  up  to  me,  twisting  round  my  throat, 
crawliiig  up  into  my  head  till  m}-  brain  is  struck  as  if  by  a 
blinding  flash  and  all  is  fire  and  racking  pain.  And  in  all 
the  glare,  as  if  suddenly  lit  up  by  it,  I  see  for  a  moment 
the  image  of  a  place  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  ever  seen, 
but  that  I  have  since  come  to  believe  to  be  the  seacoast 
near  the  place  where  T  was  born. 

When  I  came  to  myself  I  was  in  a  strange  room  of  up 
and  down  boarding,  painted  light  gray,  and  with  many 
windows.  But  wliere  my  recollections  begin,  it  was  not 
strange  any  more.  It  was  as  though  I  had  seen  the  room 
several  times  before  in  a  half  blind  way  and  as  if  some- 
thing hateful  had  happened  to  me  in  it. 

Only  I  could  not  clearly  remember  this. 

It  w^as  a  long,  narrow  room,  and  the  one  long  side  of  it 
was  all  wdndows.  But  the  glass  was  of  a  kind  one  could 
not  see  through.  On  the  opposite  side  were  a  door  and 
a  window.  The  farther  door  and  window  were  open, 
and  I  knew  that  tiiere  was  a  kitchen.  x\nd  a  Chinese 
cook  was  m  there,  a  Chinaman  I  had  met  before,  I  did 
not  know  just  v.-here. 

Over  me,  diagonally  across  the  room,  was  slung  a 
hammock  which  had  some  connection  with  what  hateful 
thing  had  happened  to  me  before  I  fully  came  to  myself. 
The  hammock  was  hooked  over  the  wdndows  at  one  end 
arid  at  the  other  end  triced  up  to  an  eyebolt  in  the  ceiling 
of  the  room  with  a  long  rawdiide  rope,  which  came  down 
and  Vvdth  a  round  turn  through  an_other  eyebolt  in  the  floor 
of  the  room,  where  it  held  my  foot  tight  up  to  the  bolt 
with  a  double  and  treble  lashing  over  ankle  and  under 
heel,  the  end  of  ^l-e  rawhide  rope  going  up  again  and 
made  fast  to  a  heavy  iron  hook  in  the  wall,  out  of  my 
reach.     I  had  tugg^^d  and  torn  at  that  rawhide.     I  had 

1/7 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tried  to  gnaw  it.  I  was  holding  onto  it  now  with  both 
hands,  sitting  on  the  tioor,  all  naked. 

I  was  covered  wlrh  bruises  and  welts  and  cuts,  hurt  sore 
and  skinned  raw  in  many  places. 

The  hammock  moved.  A  head  rose  above  the  edge. 
My  heart  gave  a  gieat  jump,  just  one;  it  looked  like  my 
friend.    But  it  was  the  other  man,  the  strange  man. 

As  his  eyes  met  mine,  he  skinned  his  teeth  and  put  out 
his  arm.  He  could  easily  reach  me  with  his  hand.  He 
called  mc  "poor  bov,"  and  said  I  had  been  sick  and  asked 
me  to  put  out  my  tongue  for  him  to  see  if  I  was  still  sick. 
And  wlien  T  opene  1  my  mouth  he  struck  me  a  wild  blow 
with  the  fist  under  the  chin  to  make  me  bite  my  tongue. 
But  I  was  too  quick  for  him.  I  had  not  opened  my  mouth 
but  a  little  and  clo:.ed  it  again  sharp,  set  my  teeth  and 
ducked  my  head,  so  that  the  blow  hardly  grazed  my 
cheek. 

He  skinned  his  teeth  again  and  tumbled  out  of  the  ham- 
mock right  on  top  of  me,  grabbing  my  hair  with  his  one 
hand  and  clutching  my  throat  with  the  other,  holding  my 
arms  down  with  his  knees,  bending  over,  his  face  close  to 
mine,  his  teeth  clacking  as  if  to  bite  me,  his  eyes  squinting 
most  hideously. 

I  had  seen  the  face  that  way  before.  He  had  lain  on 
me  just  that  way  before.  I  was  thinking  of  that,  when 
suddenly  his  lips  turned  all  white  and  he  let  go  of  me  and 
sat  startled,  listeni*ig.  I  listened  too.  I  heard  nothing. 
He  got  up,  went  to  the  door  of  the  kitchen,  and  spoke 
with  the  Chinaman  in  there.  Quite  a  while  I  heard  them 
talking,  but  could  not  understand  what  was  spoken.  They 
both  went  farther  /ito  the  house.  I  heard  them  moving 
round.  Some  doors  were  being  opened  and  shut,  then 
all  was  still. 

T  don't  know  if  for  the  moment  I  felt  anything  like 
hope  of  deliverance,  but  I  know  when  the  strange  man 
presently  returned  bv  the  nearer  one  of  the  doors,  T  saw 

178 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

that  now  all  hope  was  gone.  What  had  frightened  him 
had  been  nothing.  He  was  coming  for  me  again.  He 
was  going  to  do  something  to  me  again.  I  was  watching. 
I  felt.  I  suppose,  like  some  small  animal  about  to  be  fed 
to  a  big  beast  of  prey  in  the  cage,  to  be  torn  to  pieces  and 
devoured. 

He  was  coming  closer.  He  had  a  knife  in  his  hand. 
My  knife !  He  opened  one  of  the  smaller  blades  and  set- 
ting his  thumb  on  it  with  the  nail  some  distance  back  from 
the  point,  showing  it  to  me,  grinning,  asking  me  if  that  was 
about  right,  jabbed  it  into  me  ten  times,  showing  his  teeth 
and  the  white  of  his  eyes  at  every  stab,  till  awkwardly  he 
let  the  knife  slip  and  drop  on  the  floor  within  my  reach, 
whereupon  he  jumped  and  run  crying  and  calling  on  the 
Chinaman  m  the  kitchen  for  help. 

The  Chinaman  looked  round  tlie  door  jamb.  I  knew 
him  now  at  once.  I  had  often  seen  him.  For  the  last 
two  or  three  weeks  he  had  been  round  our  wharf  almost 
every  day,  sometimes  he  had  been  line  fishing,  but  oftener 
he  had  been  acting  as  though  he  was  trying  to  sell  un- 
stamped Chinese  cigars  to  the  big,  young  fellows  round 
the  place.  He  had  never,  that  I  could  tell,  taken  any 
notice  of  me.  But  I  had  noticed  him  well,  and  also  no- 
ticed that  if  he  was  very  irregular  in  his  comings,  when 
my  father  had  been  there,  he  had  always  left  our  wharf 
shortly  after  my  father  had  gone  away. 

He  came  running  with  a  kettle  of  boiling  wjter  to  pour 
on  me  if  I  did  not  instantly  give  up  the  knife.  I  had 
grabbed  it  and  tried  to  cut  the  rawhide  with  it.  I  might 
as  well  have  tried  to  cut  a  steel  cable.  I  threw  it  down. 
The  man  picked  it  up,  but  the  Chinaman  took  it  away 
from  him,  calling  him  a  damned  fool,  pointing  to  me 
who  was  by  this  time  all  streaked  with  blood.  He  brought 
some  water  and  a  sponge  and  started  to  wash  the  blood 
ofif  my  body,  while  the  man  fetched  a  lemon  cut  in  two. 

1/9 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

which  he   squeeze  1  and  rubbed   into  my  cuts   and  raw 
sores. 

The  pain  this  gave  me  was  so  terrible,  I  had  to  grit  my 
teeth  almost  to  breaking  them  and  clinch  my  finger  nails 
into  my  hands  to  keep  from  crying  out.  I  could  not 
help  writhing  on  tl:e  floor.  But  it  did  seem  to  stop  the 
bleeding. 

A  dozen  times  the  Chinaman  called  him  a  damned  fool, 
he  grinning,  saying  nothing  except :  "Alright  Lum !  Al- 
right!  No  more  i  ow !  Nice,  little  boy!  Nice,  clean, 
stout  boy!  No  more!  No,  Lum,  no  more  now!"  But 
no  sooner  was  the  Chinaman  gone  into  the  kitchen  than 
he  commenced  somo  new  atrocities,  when  a  bell  over  the 
near  door  sharply  rang  three  times  and  he  hurried  away. 
I  heard  some  talking;  a  woman's  voice,  and  he  came  back 
with  a  lady  and  a  I'ttle  giri,  showing  me  to  them,  saying, 
"That  is  he,"  pointing  out  my  birthmark  spots  to  them. 

Tlie  lady  was  |-he  most  beautiful  woman  I  had  ever 
seen.  And  she  had  the  sweetest  smile.  She  would  do 
nothing  to  hurt  me.  The  man  took  a  cane  from  his  ham- 
mock. When  I  saw  it  I  remembered  it.  He  had  beaten 
me  several  times  with  it  awfully.  It  was  not  a  regular 
cane,  it  was  like  the  steel  stem  of  a  small  umbrella  with 
some  sharp,  rough  points  and  jagged  edges  that  had  cut 
right  through  my  skm  and  that  he  had  sometimes  worked 
in  my  flesh  like  a  saw,  before  I  had  fairly  recovered  my 
senses. 

He  held  it  out  to  the  lady,  to  take  it  and  strike  me  with 
it,  "so  that  1  should  not  forget  her,"  he  said  ;  with  some 
other  foolish  talk,  telling  her  that  I  liked  to  be  whipped 
and  never  cried  at  i?  ;  and  I  should  anyhow  soon  be  taken 
from  them,  so  they  must  make  the  most  of  me  while  they 
had  me  with  them.  The  lady  smiled  more  sweetly,  but 
said  nothing  and  pushed  his  hand  with  the  cane  away, 
whereupon  lie  gave  it  to  the  little  girl  who  took  it  with 
brightening   eyes   and   quickly   struck  me   with  it  across 

i8o 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tlie  face,  at  which  he  lauglied  and  the  lady  smiled  more 
sweetly  yet.  He  and  the  lady  then  went  away  together 
by  the  first  door,  leaving  the  little  girl  behind  with  me. 

She  was  a  very  pretty  girl,  not  so  very  little, 
not  at  all  a  baby,  only  she  looked  somewhat  babyish.  She 
was  near  my  height.  She  was  dressed  a  good  deal  like 
the  lady,  and  I  think  1  could  yet,  now,  describe  her  cloth- 
ing, piece  by  piece.  She  looked  like  the  lady,  too,  but 
more  on  account  of  their  being  dressed  so  much  alike. 
Otherwise  she  looked  much  more  like  the  man.  To  me  his 
every  feature,  his  pale,  gray  eyes,  and  their  glancings,  his 
movements,  his  walk,  everything  was  traceable  in  her, 
heightened  in  her. 

She  kept  striking  at  me  with  the  cane,  but  her  blows  did 
not  hurt  me  at  all.  Her  tight-fitting  gloves  prevented  her 
holding  the  cane,  but  just  loosely.  She  seemed  to  under- 
stand that  she  did  not  hurt  me,  and  it  made  her  angry. 
She  stepped  quite  <  lose  up  to  me,  as  I  was  sitting  on  my 
feet  doubled  under  '^oe,  and  spat  at  me.  But  she  only  spat 
on  herself. 

I  suppose  my  face  showed  something.  I  don't  know 
Avhat.  I  believe  I  half  smiled,  there  came  into  her  eyes 
such  a  look  of  hate  it  appalled  me.  She  would  destroy. 
If  she  only  had  the  strength  or  the  knowledge  of  means, 
she  would  do  all  t:>  crush,  to  kill.  And  like  the  man  she 
so  much  looked  like,  she  would  love  to  give  pain,  to  tor- 
ture.   But  I'ulike  him  she  was  not  foolish  nor  afraid. 

T  reckon  she  comprehended  that  I  should  hardly  dare 
to  hurt  her.  But  she  must  also  know  that  I  might  have 
to  do  it  in  self-defense  if  she  went  too  far.  Yet  she 
dared  me.  She  grasped  my  hair  and  tore  at  it  to  bring 
my  head  down,  that  she  could  kick  me  in  the  face,  and 
she  did  not  budge  when  I  raised  my  hand  to  ward  her  off. 
One  blow^  she  struck  grazed  my  eye  and  made  it  water. 
That  made  her  glow  with  triumph,  and  she  now  directed 
all  her  efforts  to  that  eye,  to  drive  the  ferrule  of  the  cane 

i8i 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

into  it.  I  caught  the  cane  in  my  hand.  She  tugged  and 
tugged.  I  suddenly  let  go.  She  tumbled  over,  setting 
up  a  great  bawl. 

"Papa!    Papa!" 

She  was  not  hurt,  nor  crying  with  pain,  or  fright,  or 
fear,  only  howling  mad  with  being  thrown  and  defeated, 
and  screeching  to  bring  on  punishment  for  me,  while  I 
sat  bracing  myself  for  what  was  sure  to  come. 

But  it  was  nothing.  Lum,  the  Chinaman  came  running, 
picked  up  the  little  girl  and  told  her  to  shut  up,  calling 
her  a  damned  fool  like  the  man,  her  papa.  He,  the 
strange  man  came  half  dressed  out  of  the  near  doorway; 
she  told  him  I  had  thrown  her  down,  calling  him  papa 
every  time  she  spoke.     He  led  her  away. 

For  some  time  I  sat  expecting  him  back,  waiting  for 
him  to  come  and  do  something  to  me.  It  seemed  so  im- 
possible that  he  would  let  this  opportunity  pass.  And  I 
do  not  know  but  what  I  almost  felt  like  having  a  beating 
to  my  credit  with  him,  which  to  make  us  even  I  had 
to  receive  at  his  hands  any  time  he  chose  to  let  me  have 
it.  But  instead  of  him,  Lum  came  back  and  brought 
me  something  to  eat  on  a  plate,  a  large  plate  with  slices 
of  meat  and  bread  and  potatoes,  holding  the  dish  for  me 
to  take  the  things  ofif  with  my  fingers,  which  I  did  fast 
enough.  I  had  had  no  idea  how  hungry  I  was.  I  had 
felt  no  hunger  at  all  till  I  saw  the  eatables.  And  Lum 
encouraged  me  to  eat  plenty.  He  brought  a  second  plate- 
ful of  different  things  and  a  third,  till  I  could  eat  no 
more. 

After  that  I  began  feeling  very  heavy  and  drowsy.  I 
saw  everything  as  if  in  smoke  and  at  moments  again 
quite  distinctly,  as  though  I  was  suddenly  awakened.  But 
I  did  not  know  that  I  had  slept.  I  seemed  to  be  awake  all 
the  time.  And  all  the  time  Lum  was  there  with  me. 
He  was  cutting  my  hair,  clipping  it  quite  short,  leaving 
only  a  little  top-knot  in  the  centre,  to  which  he  tied  a 

182 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

queue  of  some  hair  and  silk,  like  a  Chinese  boy's.     1  had 
been  untied,  but  I  could  barely  move. 

Then  I  found  I  had  some  clothes  on.  a  new,  striped 
soft  shirt  with  a  red  silk  handkerchief  tied  under  the 
collar  for  a  neck  tie,  a  new%  very  stout  pair  of  brown  over- 
all, of  the  kind  which  come  up  in  front  and  back  and  are 
fastened  over  the  shoulders;  over  this  another  pair  of 
overalls,  dirty  and  worn,  and  over  everything  a  nasty 
smelling,  greasy,  filthy  old  Chinese  blouse  that  fitted  tight 
round  my  throat  and  had  sleeves  much  too  long  and 
sewed  up  at  the  ends,  so  I  could  not  get  my  hands  out- 

The  last  thing  Lum  had  to  put  on  me  was  a  pair  of 
shoes,  but  there  was  something  wrong  with  them.  Lum 
became  quite  angry  and  cursed  in  English.  At  last  he 
took  me  into  the  kitchen  where  my  own  boots  were  stand- 
ing and  put  them  on  my  feet  over  the  first  overalls. 
Finally  he  tied  up  my  face  and  head  with  some  Chinese 
silk  handkerchiefs,  as  if  I  had  some  pain  or  illness  in  my 
head,  and  fastened  so  that  I  could  not  open  my  mouth. 
Over  the  handkerchiefs  I  w^ore  a  new,  soft,  black  hat, 
just  an  ordinary  white  man's  hat,  such  as  Chinese  mostly 
wear  when  they  do  not  wear  their  skull  caps. 

I  saw  myself  in  a  mirror.  We  had  left  the  room. 
We  had  gone  down  a  long  stairway.  Lum  was  carry- 
ing me.  We  were  in  a  street.  It  was  fogg>'.  It  was 
evening  and  there  were  many  lights.  But  nothing  was 
clear.  Somewhere  we  passed  a  large  mirror  and  I  saw 
myself  reflected  in  it.  I  could  not  know  myself  except 
that  I  knew  Lum  and  knew  that  he  was  carrying  me, 
and  that  my  head  was  tied  up ;  it  looked  as  though  it  was 
a  China  boy  he  was  carrying.  In  the  street  were  many 
kind  of  wagons.  Many  people  were  going  both  ways. 
Some  bells  were  ringing.  We  were  going  along  with 
more  Chinamen,  that  had  joined  us.  Once  Lum  put  me 
down  to  walk  but  I  was  so  dizzy  I  kept  stumbling  all 
the  time.     Another  Chinaman  took  me  up  to  carry  me 

183 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

for  Luni.  I  heard  whistles  Hke  of  steamers  en  the  bay. 
Still  more  Chinamen  had  joined  us.  We  went  together 
under  a  shed-roof. 

It  was  night.  We  were  aboard  a  vessel  on  the  water. 
A  steamboat !  1  could  hear  the  noise  and  feel  the  motion. 
It  was  very  dark.  After  a  while  it  was  not  quite  so  dark. 
I  was  clearer  in  my  head  than  I  had  been  but  still  not 
all  right.  I  could  see  well  enough  and  hear  but  I  did 
not  seem  to  be  able  to  speak  or  to  move.  1  was  lying  on 
some  boxes,  on  which  Lum  was  sitting  in  a  crowd  of 
Chinamen.  On  both  sides  of  us  were  piled  up  some  sort 
of  freight.    Farther  back  were  some  horses. 

Some  of  the  Chinamen  spoke  to  me.  They  seemed 
to  know^  that  I  did  not  belong  to  them  and  yet  to  think 
that  I  could  understand  their  talk.  And  somehow  I  did 
at  times  fancy  I  knew  what  they  were  saying  and  that 
they  were  speaking  about  me.  Several  were  eating  sweets 
and  some  pieces  were  offered  me  to  eat.  But  I  could 
not  eat.  One  who  was  very  good  natured-looking  gave 
me  a  whole,  big,  candied  citron  and  when  he  saw  I  did 
not  care  to  eat  it,  cut  it  in  two  and  feeling  under  my  blouse 
for  the  pockets  in  my  shirt-front  put  the  sweetmeat  into 
them,  motioning  for  me  to  eat  it  afterwards.  It  was 
the  Chinaman  who  had  carried  me  for  Lum. 

It  was  growing  much  lighter.  We  were  en  the  for- 
ward, lower  deck  of  a  bay-steamer,  a  stern-wheeler. 
We  were  still  under  wa}-  but  not  in  the  bay,  in  a  narrow 
w-aterw^ay.  There  was  no  fog  and  no  wind  and  it  was 
not  cold.  1  saw  the  paling  moon  pretty  well  down  in  the 
West.  Land  was  each  side  of  us,  very  near,  low  land 
thickly  grown  with  tall,  dark,  reedy  grass,  bordered  along 
the  water's  edge  with  fat  mud.  Small  water  arms  came 
from  out  the  grass  with  the  same  mud-borders.  Some 
stretches,  all  of  mud  wound  in  back  from  the  water  be- 
tween  the    grass,   resembling   roads,    all    sun-baked    and 

cracked. 

184 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Some  bushes  we  passed  and  trees,  some  of  such  as  I 
had  seen  when  I  w^as  with  Antonio.  It  made  me  think 
of  Antonio  for  a  moment.  On  his  right  hand,  part  of 
his  middle  finger  was  off,  and  I  remembered  it  then 
as  if  the  hand  was  before  my  eyes. 

Behind  tlie  tall,  dark  grass,  the  land  looked  dry. 
Some  hills  to  one  side  had  exactly  the  appearance  of  the 
hills  round  the  city  and  across  the  bay  as  seen  from  our 
wharf,  bare  and  sunburnt,  tawny-drab.  Some  cattle  I 
saw  and  some  horses.  Pretty  soon  we  came  to  fields 
and  vegetable-plantations  greatly  like  those  round  An- 
tonio's place,  an.d  trees  in  fruit,  planted  in  rows  as  far 
as  one  could  follow  them,  all  well  kept  and  clean. 

Ahead  shone  white  what  seemed  to  be  some  houses. 
We  were  apparently  going  there.  But  just  then  the 
steamer's  bell  clanged,  we  slowed  up  and  turned  to  land 
at  a  little  wharf  built  over  some  yards  of  tide  land  in.to 
the  river. 

I   felt  a  sudden  pang,  remembering  our  wharf. 

On  the  little  wharf,  to  one  side  near  the  edge  was 
a  lot  of  large  split-wood  piled  up,  and  the  deck-hands  of 
the  boat  had  started  in  to  take  firewood  from  the 
pile.  Lum  had  taken  me  up  and  was  carrying  me  ashore 
in  the  midst  of  the  Chinamen,  who  were  all  leaving  the 
steamboat  in  a  jam.  And  at  that  very  moment  the  to]) 
of  the  sun  came  bursting  up,  flashing  and  blinding  over 
the  far-away  rim  of  the  level  land. 

There  were  two  wagon-roads  starting  from  the  land- 
ing-wharf, one  along  the  water  down  to  some  huts  of  a 
Chinese  camp,  the  other  straight  inland,  skirting  the 
fields.  Lum  first  went  a  short  distance  down  the  river- 
road  with  the  crowd  of  jabbering  Chinese,  but  then 
turned  away  from  them  into  the  next  vegetable  field, 
walking  with  me  quickly  across  it  along  a  close-grown 
hedge  to  the  other  end  of  it,  where  a  gate  in  a  fence 
opened  into  the  other  wagon-road. 

185 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

A  little  sag  or  hollow  was  in  the  ground  where  we 
struck  the  road,  hiding  the  river.  I  could  see  nothing 
but  the  dusty  road  coming  down  one  way  and  going  up 
the  other  with  the  accompanying  fences,  and  a  short 
piece  of  the  smoking  funnel  of  the  steamer  and  behind 
it  the  crests  of  the  bald,  adobe-colored  hills  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  The  noisy  gabbling  of  the  Chinamen 
had  grown  faint.  From  the  steamer  came  the  shriek  of 
the  whistle  and  I  heard  her  going  off.  A  dust  arose  in  the 
road  where  it  came  over  the  swell  of  ground,  and  in  it 
were  the  heads  of  two  horses,  one  white  and  one  gray,  a 
team,  a  strong  buggy  with  a  brake,  a  man  driving,  muffled 
up  against  the  dust  with  linen  dust-coat  and  buggy-robe 
and  goggles  and  thick  veil  all  round  the  head  under  the 
straw  hat,  handkerchiefs  tied  round  his  neck  and  wrists 
overcoat-collar  and  sleeves,  and  long  gloves  on ! 

T  knew  who  he  was. 

Lum  had  already  taken  off  my  Chinese  blouse  and  the 
old  overalls  and  pulled  the  handkerchiefs  off  my  head 
together  with  the  pig-tail.  He  had  even  cut  off  the  little 
centre  top-knot  of  hair  he  had  left  on  my  head  when  he 
clipped  it.  I  was  glad  the  blouse  was  off.  It  had  chafed 
my  throat  and  neck. 

Before  the  team  had  fairly  stopped  in  front  of  us, 
Lum  had  handed  me  in  and  was  making  off  with  the  old 
clothes,  when  the  man  excitedly  called  him  back,  to  come 
and  fasten  me.  My  hands  were  linked  together  with 
handcuffs  behind  me,  my  left  ankle  was  secured  with  a 
shackle  and  dog-chain  to  the  rod  at  the  bottom  of  the 
dashboard.  The  chain  was  plenty  long  so  that  I  could  sit 
on  the  seat  by  the  man. 

The  road  ran  right  on  between  the  fences.  The  dust 
was  so  deep  in  it  and  so  fine  and  rose  so  high,  it  came 
to  the  horses'  backs  like  some  dirty  whitish-yellow  sub- 
stance which  they  seemed  to  be  swimming  in,  or  drift- 
ing with  the  wagon,  onlv  that  the  jolts  would  tell  of  the 

i86 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

solid  ground  below.  It  rose  above  my  head,  but  not  so 
thick,  and  the  little  air  moving  going  with  us  kept  us 
right  in  it.  At  times  it  would  drift  off  a  little  to 
one  side  and  let  me  see  over  the  land ;  all  level 
and  flat  like  the  bay  only  bigger,  much  wider,  farther 
than  for  anyone  to  see,  dust-colored  under  the  burning 
sun,  with  nothing  growing,  yet  in  places  with  stubbles 
of  grain-straw  and  away  off  may  be  a  line  of  fence  like 
that  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and  a  few  trees  and  some 
cattle ;  ahead  high  land  in  the  glary  haze.  Then  the 
dust  would  close  in  again  till  I  could  hardly  breathe. 

My  e3^es  and  ears  and  mouth  and  nose  were  all 
choked  and  smarting.  My  cuts  and  bruises  hurt  me  more 
than  ever  before.  Most  of  all  the  fastenings  of  my 
wrists  gave  me  pains  as  though  my  shoulders  were  split- 
ting. 

The  road  was  rough.  The  rolling  and  pitching  of  the 
wagon  not  seldom  threw^  me  half  off  the  seat.  The  back- 
board of  the  seat  was  quite  high  and  had  an  iron  rod  a 
little  distance  below^  it-  I  clung  to  that  rod  with  both 
hands  together  or  I  think  I  must  have  gone  overboard 
several  times.  I  could  not  steady  myself  with  my  feet 
at  all.  I  w^as  too  short.  To  hold  on  to  that  rod  that  way 
behind  me  at  first  lessened  the  pains  in  my  arms  and 
shoulders,  but  afterwards  the  strain  grew  much  worse.  I 
let  go  and  slid  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  buggy.  A  box 
or  valise,  something  was  under  the  seat.  Against  that 
I  could  brace  my  back.  My  feet  I  gradually  worked  over 
to  the  outside  till  my  legs  were  stretched  out  straight. 
The  dust  was  worse  on  me  that  way,  but  I  was  much 
eased  in  my  shoulders  and  steadied  against  the  jolts  of 
the  wagon. 

I  dozed,  but  not  long.  Some  bushes  came  to  meet  us. 
A  water-course  was  on  my  side  below  the  wagon-road. 
It  was  lev,'  tide  ;  very  little  water  was  in  it.  On  the  banks 
of  it  the  bushes  grew. 

187 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

1  was  dozing  again  when  I  heard  noises.  I  could  not 
see  what  it  was  for  the  buggy  robe  had  been  thrown 
over  me-  I  managed  to  turn  my  head  till  I  could  look 
out  from  under  it.  I  caught  glimpses  of  a  big  wagon 
loaded  with  split-wood,  such  as  I  had  seen  lying  piled  up 
on  the  little  wharf  of  the  steamboat-landing.  At  least 
a  dozen  oxen  were  yoked  to  the  wagon,  going  down  the 
road  we  were  going  up.  I  saw  no  men.  And  the  wagon 
was  already  past  us. 

We  were  going  faster.  We  were  no  longer  on  level 
ground.  The  water-course  on  my  side  with  its  bushes 
was  still  there,  but  the  road  was  higher  above  it.  Ahead 
a  hill  went  rounding  up  from  a  low  bluff.  At  the  bluff 
our  road  split  in  two.  One,  the  one  that  seemed  to  be 
the  main  road  wound  to  the  right  around  the  hill,  easy- 
graded.  The  other  which  was  narrower  and  much  ne- 
glected and  less  used,  rose  more  steeply  on  the  left  side. 

We  headed  up  this  old  road.  But  just  past  the  forking 
point  we  stopped.  Some  big,  round-top  trees  were  stand- 
ing there  on  the  bluff'  close  together,  their  tops  like  one, 
their  shade  spreading  over  both  roads.  Under  them  was  a 
spring.  The  bluff"  had  been  dug  out  for  the  roads,  form- 
ing a  bank.  Out  of  the  bank  came  the  water.  A  wooden 
spout  had  been  stuck  into  the  bank  and  led  the  water 
into  a  barrel  set  in  the  ground  under  it.  Out  of  the 
barrel  it  overflowed  again  on  the  ground  and  tried 
to  get  across  the  road  in  a  narrow  streak  of  damp,  mak- 
ing its  way  through  the  dust  to  reach  the  edge. 

All  round  the  dark  wet  was  grass,  soft  and  green 
with  a  few  little  flowers  between,  like  eyes  to  watch  and 
see. 

The  man  set  the  buggy  brake  and  got  out.  Tie  took  off 
his  veil  and  goggles  and  gloves  and  shook  his  dust-coat 
and  stretched  and  eased  himself.  He  took  out  of  one  of 
the  many  pockets  of  his  coat  a  cup  which  he  rinsed  out 
and  let  run  full  again  and  drank  the  water,  making  a  great 

t88 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANVS 

sliow  how  re f resiling  it  was.  Then  lie  came  to  me  witli 
the  cup  full  of  water,  held  it  out  to  just  but  touch  my  lips, 
then  drew  it  back  and  poured  it  on  the  ground.  He  re- 
peated the  perfc-rmance  several  times,  telling  me  to  drink, 
sayino-  J  did  n.ot  know  hov/  fine  the  water  was. 

I  had  known  he  would  not  give  me  any  water. 

He  waited  another  minute  or  two  before  he  watered 
the  horses  from  a  pail  floating  in  the  barrel.  As  soon  as 
they  were  satisfied  and  he  had  put  on  his  gloves  and  veil, 
but  not  his  goggles,  he  got  in  the  bugg}'  again  and  we 
Avent  on  briskly  up  the  road.  The  water-course  with  its 
bushes  still  kept  on  my  side,  but  it  was  very  much  deeper 
down  now.  Hills  were  rising  all  round.  Many  parts 
were  densely  covered  with  short,  scrubby  brush  of  such 
even  top  that  it  looked  far  off  like  solid  ground  grown, 
may  be.  with  green  moss.  In  other  places  were  bare 
ground  with  dead  grass  and  with  some  bushes,  giving 
glimpses  between  of  the  large  level  land  we  had  come 
through  from  the  river- 

I  was  sitting  on  the  seat  again,  as  I  had  done  at  first. 
The  road  was  very  much  less  dusty.  It  looked  very 
much  abandoned.  In  the  middle  of  it  some  low  shrubs 
had  sprung  up  between  deep,  old  ruts.  But  there  were 
some  new  tracks  of  wagon  wlieels.  Some  old  fences 
I  saw  but  nowhere  any  cattle,  nor  any  other  animals 
which  I  knew.  Some  I  did  see  that  looked  a  little  like 
rats,  with  long,  bushy  tails.  They  would  race  across 
the  road  in  front  of  the  team  into  some  holes  in  the 
ground  at  the  roadside.  Once  a  very  fine,  large,  blue 
and  black  bird  flew  from  out  the  bushes  with  great 
screeching  and  scolding  as  we  came  near  him. 

The  road  kept  winding  in  and  out,  up  along  the  hill- 
sides. The  hills  were  always  the  same  and  always  dif- 
ferent at  every  turn.  At  times  it  looked  as  though  they 
would  shut  us  in  altogether.  But  just  when  it  seemed 
impossible  that  we  could  go  anv  farther,  thev  would  oper. 

189' 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

out,  or  the  road  would  double  back,  and  we  would  go 
on  from  hill  to  hill,  higher  and  higher  and  higher  to  where 
the  hills  sloped  together  in  one  broad-backed,  big,  bald 
mountain,  and  we  came  to  where  we  could  look  over  on 
the  other  side.  It  was  wooded  in  the  lower  parts  and 
in  many  places  set  with  rocks  and  tall,  dark  trees  with 
pointed  tops. 

At  my  side  to  the  left,  the  big,  bald  mountain  was 
bare  all  the  way  down  to  a  narrow  valley,  and  on  the 
other  side  of  this  valley  was  a  rocky  range  with  a  jagged 
crest.  Over  it  the  sun  was  declining.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  narrow  valley,  near  the  centre,  already  in  shadow  of 
the  rocky  range  was  a  dark  greenish  streak  that  must 
be  the  water-course  with  the  bushes  which  we  had  gone 
alongside  of  from  far  in  the  great  flatland  which  I  could 
not  see  anything  of  at  all- 

The  horses  went  along  slowly.  The  road  was  steep 
in  stretches.  The  big,  bald  mountain  lay  there  among 
others  like  the  humpy  back  of  some  immense  animal. 
Over  the  narrow  valley,  not  much  higher  than  we,  a  big 
bird  was  floating  in  the  still  air,  slowly  soaring  around  and 
around.  Once  he  came  nearer,  as  if  to  look  at  us.  Then 
he  wheeled  and  drifted  away.  Above  the  mountain-swell 
in  front  and  along  towards  both  sides,  peaks  came  in 
view,  farther  away  and  higher,  cutting  into  the  pale,  clear 
sky. 

The  man  pulled  oflf  his  veil,  and  directly  I  caught  his 
eye,  I  saw  something  there  that  meant  me  harm.  I  had 
seen  the  same  thing  before.  Every  time  he  had  wanted 
to  do  evil  to  me  I  had  seen  it  in  his  eyes.  He  was 
going  to  do  something  to  me  now.  He  put  on  the  brake 
and  pulled  up  the  horses. 

We  were  below  the  crown  of  the  bald  mountain-hump. 
Before  us  was  a  gap  like  a  cut  or  split.  An  irregular 
sort  of  bridge  of  large  and  small  logs  led  over  and 
through  it.     From  the  depth  at  the  right  the  bush  ex- 

190 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tended  np,  filling  the  gap  to  near  the  bridge,  and  some 
young,  pointed  trees  on  that  side  stood  at  the  bridge's 
butts,  straight  and  tall,  all  golden  in  the  sunbeams-  On 
my  side  the  gap  was  but  a  rocky  cleft  in  the  stony  moun- 
tain-side, extending  far  down  toward  the  water-course 
in  the  bottom  of  the  long,  narrow  valley. 

He  got  out  and  tied  the  horses  to  tlie  nearest  tree 
at  the  bridge-  He  loosed  my  chain  from  the  rod  at  the 
dashboard.  He  was  excited  now.  He  dragged  me  out 
and  pushed  me  to  the  edge  of  the  bridge  over  the  cleft. 
I  thought  he  meant  to  push  me  over.  I  turned  to  face 
him.  He  had  a  pistol  in  his  hand.  He  stepped  back  a 
couple  of  steps  to  the  length  of  the  chain  and  raised  his 
arm  and  leveled  his  gun  at  me. 

The  peaks  and  the  pale  clear  sky.  the  woods  below, 
every  tall  timber,  the  bushes  and  trees  climbing  up 
towards  the  log-bridge  in  the  golden  sunshine,  every 
branch  and  leaf,  every  withered  grass-blade  on  the  crusty 
ground  by  me  in  the  flooding  light,  everything  J  saw  ; 
and  the  sun  behind  me,  as  I  had  seen  it  the  moment  before 
over  the  jagged  ridge  of  the  rocky  range  on  the  other  side 
of  the  narrow  valley,  the  sharp,  deep  shadow  of  the  crest 
more  than  halfway  up  on  the  bare,  yellow  mountainside, 
behind,  below  me. 

And  the  whole  time  I  was  looking  in  the  eye,  as  if  I 
held  him  fast  that  way,  so  fixed  and  strained  it  gave  me 
a  pain  right  between  the  eyes,  down  deep  and  so  keen, 
I  had  to  fight  it  with  all  my  power  to  keep  it  from 
going  deeper  and  striking  my  brain  to  confusion.  For 
all  along  I  was  trying  to  keep  myself  under  control 
against  all  distress  and  not  to  give  up ;  as  if  I  knew  that  I 
was  lost  if  I  got  unnerved  through  any  pain,  or  anything. 

He  could  not  shoot.  He  was  afraid.  I  saw  it.  He 
could  not  shoot  as  long  as  I  held  his  eye  that  way-  He 
was  afraid.  His  lips  were  as  white  as  that  time,  how 
long  ago ! 

T9T 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

But  now !  He  closed  his  eyes.  The  gun  flew  up  with 
the  flash  and  the  crack.  I  heard  the  bullet  whistle  ovcr 
me  and  sing  in  the  distance.  The  horses  started  and 
shook.  A  big  bird  flew  screaming  from  out  the  bush  be- 
low. And  from  around  came  the  echo,  once  and  again 
and  fainter  again. 

He  had  dropped  the  revolver,  thrown  it  from  him, 
I  think.  When  the  echo  came  he  put  up  his  hands  as  if 
to  put  them  over  his  ears.  He  was  grinning  now.  And 
I  too!  I  did  not  want  to,  but  I  could  not  hold  my  face. 
I  had  to  smile.  But  I  turned  my  head  dov/n  a  little. 
I  stopped  looking  at  him. 

He  picked  up  his  gun  and  stuck  it  in  his  pocket.  He 
led  me  back  to  the  wagon,  put  me  in  and  fastened  me 
again,  untied  the  horses,  got  in.  and  we  went  on  as 
before,  following  the  rough,  old  road,  now  nearly  level, 
but  .slowly  declining  wnth  the  slope  of  the  mountain. 

The  woods  below  to  the  right  were  stretching  away, 
filling  all  defiles  and  covering  many  of  the  lower  hills, 
some  taller  peaks  standing  in  the  green  like  promontories. 
One  was  quite  close  or  looked  to  be  so;  a  single  high, 
rocky  cliflf,  rising  sheer  up  from  amongst  tall,  dark,  sharp- 
pointed  trees.  On  it  were  some  greenish  streaks  and 
patches,"  perhaps  brush  and  bushes.  Quite  near  the  top 
and  overtopping  it  stood  a  solitary  stem  of  a  tree  which 
might  be  big  if  it  appeared  small,  all  dead  and  bare  with 
but  one  green  branch,  sideways  out,  close  to  its  top,  like  a 
rag  of  a  flag. 

I  looked  up  at  it  because  the  man  did.  And  then  he 
and  I  looked  down  to  the  edge  of  the  timber  below  us. 
Some  trees  there  seemed  to  have  been  burnt  and  a  good 
many  cut  away,  leaving  the  stumps  standing  in  the 
scrubby  underbrush,  all  between  boulders  and  rocks. 
Some  long  stacks  of  splitwood,  piled  up  between  the 
stumps,  looked  very  bright  against  the  dark  of  the  dense 

192 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

undergrowth.     A  road  too,  became  very  plainly  visible 
there  near  the  wood-piles,  leading  into  the  timber. 

The  sun  was  down  now  to  the  crags  of  the  range  on 
the  other  side  of  the  narrow  valley,  and  the  air  was^  all 
full  of  shining  yellow.  As  we  rode  on,  the  highest  points 
of  the  range  already  covered  him.  In  the  gaps  he  re- 
appeared, first  almost  full,  in  the  next  scarcely  half,  then 
but  a  shapeless,  quivering  margin;  then  no  more.  The 
yellow  shine  left  the  air.  The  glow  faded  from  off  the 
high  cliff  and  the  other  peaks.  All  things  took  on  a  tint 
of  Ufeless  cold,  and  a  great  stillness  seemed  to  fall  on 
everything.  There  had  been  but  few  sounds  before,  but 
there  were  noises  now,  things  making  a  shrilling,  chirp- 
ing everywhere,  all  around,  so  many,  it  sounded  like 
one  tone  Some  birds,  too,  were  calling;  yet  quietness 
seemed  to  have  come  now  that  such  sounds  could  be 
heard.  And  I  know  I  heard  the  sound  of  the  wagon 
moving  and  the  horses  stepping. 

We  were  on  different  soil ;  hard,  adobe  ground.  Our 
road  had  gone  down  along  the  side  of  the  big  mountain 
towards  the  timber.  But  before  we  came  to  it  we  turned 
into  another  road  which  to  all  appearances  was  the 
timber  road  I  had  just  before  seen  from  above,  and 
which  took  us  higher  up  again  on  a  pretty  even  grade 
in  long  zigzag  stretches  to  where  our  big,  humpy  moun- 
tain went  sloping  over  into  other  mountains  with  irregular 

peaks. 

A  black  hole  I  saw  in  the  mountain-side  above  us. 
Below  it  was  a  large  heap  of  rocks  and  dirt,  as  if  it  had 
been  dumped  there.  Then  I  saw  another  such  hole  and 
yet  another  and  to  one  side  of  them  a  few  huts. 

No  signs  of  Hfe  were  there  about  them.  They  looked 
entirely  deserted  and  half  gone  to  pieces.  The  road,  too, 
we  were  on,  hard  as  it  was,  looked  as  unused  as  the  road 
we  had  come  on  over  the  mountains. 

In  a  straight  line  we  were  not  so  far  from  the  huts, 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

although  it  took  the  road  several,  long,  zig  zag  stretches 
to  reach  them,  turning  at  sharp  angles,  following  the 
rounding  of  the  mountain.  But  at  the  first  angle-turn 
of  the  road  we  came  to  another  hut  of  which  I  had  seen 
nothing  for  the  rounding  of  the  mountain-shoulder  till 
we  were  almost  upon  it. 

It  was  built  of  logs,  looking  very  much  like  a  big  pile 
of  cord-wood  with  a  double  slanting  roof.  A  chimney 
stack  of  rocks  with  a  barrel  on  it  for  a  top  was  built  on 
the  outside  of  the  hut.  And  out  of  the  barrel  smoke  was 
coming,  curling- 

The  cabin  was  standing  not  far  away  from  the  road, 
down-hill,  in  a  large,  square  lot,  or  field,  fenced  in  on 
ail  sides  with  a  split-rail  fence.  A  gate  was  at  the  upper 
front  corner  with  a  trail  leading  from  the  road  to  the 
gate,  which  continued  by  it,  farther  on  along  the  upper 
side- fence  to  the  rear  corner,  where  it  forked  into  three 
trails  running  round  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain  at 
<lilTerent  grades.  Near  the  uppermost  trail,  a  little  above 
it,  vvhere  the  ground  tiattened.  was  another  one  of  those 
])]ack  holes  v.ith  dumped-out  rocks,  which  1  had  seen  on 
tiic  hill  higher  up. 

We  had  stopped  at  the  angle  of  the  road  near  the 
gate.  We  could  see  all  over  the  place.  Tlie  ground 
was  just  as  bare  as  all  the  bald  mountain.  In  places  heaps 
of  rough  rocks  were  breaking  out  of  the  ground.  Other 
big  stones  were  lying  about  as  if  they  had  rolled  there 
from  upper  places.  Where  the  trails  went  to  in  back, 
you  could  not  tell ;  the  ground  fell  away  sharply,  I  could 
only  see  some  green  there  of  timber -tops. 

All  was  still  and  quiet  and  nobody  moving.  Inside 
the  gate  stood  a  piebald  pony  ready  saddled,  the  head 
hanging  down,  half  asleep. 

The  man  halloed,  and  a  big,  ugly  dog  came  from  be- 
hind the  log-cabin  and  stood  looking  at  us,  making  no 
-noise.     The  man  halloed  again  ;  the  low  door  of  the  log- 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

lint  opened,  a  smallish,  black  man  looked  out  and  came 
to  the  gate,  pushed  himself  through  with  some  difficulty 
and  walked  up  to  the  wagon.     The  dog  followed. 

The  man  had  taken  off  my  fetters  in  a  great  hurry. 
When  my  arms  came  forward  I  could  not  feel  them  at  all, 
they  were  so  numb-  He  gave  me  a  wild  shove ;  to  save 
myself  from  falling,  I  had  to  jump.  He  handed  out 
to  the  Black  a  small  leather  bag  with  something  in 
it,  money!  saying  something  about  an  easy  job  and  a 
good  little  boy  that  would  make  no  fuss.  He  also  talked 
about  the  road  through  the  timber  and  that  he  must 
hurry  to  get  somewhere  before  it  was  too  dark.  At  last, 
pointing  to  me,  lifting  his  right  foot  and  making  with  the 
whip-handle  the  sign  and  motion  of  cutting  above  the 
heel,  nodding  at  the  Black,  grinning  pointing  to  the  black 
hole  in  the  ground,  laughing,  calling  cheerily  good-by, 
he  whipped  up  the  horses,  turned  and  went  down  the 
road  to  the  timber. 

I  had  seen  and  heard  all  this  and  understood  it  too, 
pretty  well.  But  I  had  all  my  mind  on  the  dog.  And 
the  dog  was  watching  me. 

He  was  a  strange  looking  beast,  long,  stout,  large  al- 
together but  not  tall ;  his  legs  were  much  too  short  for 
his  size.  His  head  was  narrow,  ears  upright  and  his  long 
jaws  had  big  fangs.  His  eyes  lay  flat  in  the  nar- 
row forehead,  close  together.  I  noticed  he  could  not  bear 
to  have  me  look  into  them ;  so  I  did  but  just  glance 
at  them  from  time  to  time,  when  I  always  found  them 
fastened  on  me,  his  short,  dirty,  yellow  hair  bristling 
and  his  stumpy  tail  as  upright  as  his  ears.  I  watched  the 
Black,  too.  but  not  as  I  did  the  dog. 

The  Black  was  short  with  strong  limbs  and  very 
dark.  But  he  was  no  Negro.  He  looked  a  little  like  a 
Chinaman.  Still  he  was  no  Chinaman  at  all.  He  wore 
no  queue,  and  his  head  was  not  shaved-  His  hair  was 
like  mine,  but  coarse.     He  had  no  beard,  but  there  was 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

a  thin  growth  of  fine,  soft,  black  hah*  on  the  lower  part 
of  his  face,  and  his  chin.  His  clothes  were  ordinary 
laborer's  clothes,  his  pants  held  up  by  a  leather  belt 
with  a  sheath  and  knife  behind,  like  a  sailor's.  On  his 
right  cheek  he  had  two  livid  scars,  from  slashes,  that  gave 
him  a  hideous  look. 

We  stood  till  the  team  had  gone  dipping  out  of  sight 
down  the  road  to  the  timber.  The  Black  motioned  to 
me  to  go  with  him  inside  the  fence,  and  when  we  were 
through  he  told  me  to  shut  the  gate.  It  was  English  he 
spoke  but  so  poorly,  I  could  barely  make  out  what  he 
meant;  only  I  could  guess  it  and  shut  the  gate.  It  was 
hard  to  move  and  pull  to,  it  was  so  badly  sagged  and 
so  heavy.  But  I  thought  it  made  my  arms  feel  better 
to  work  them  and  so  pulled  at  it  more  than  necessary. 

The  dog  was  standing  by  and  looking  on  till  I  was 
done,  when  without  warning  he  sprang  at  me  and  threw 
me  down  and  stood  over  me  gradually  laying  himself 
down  on  me  with  his  whole,  big  body,  so  that  I  could 
not  move.  My  chin  was  in  his  mouth.  I  felt  his  hot 
lips  and  tongue,  and  sometimes  his  fangs.  I  was  sure 
he  would  reach  for  my  throat  if  I  made  the  least  struggle 
and  lay  perfectly  still.  It  was  not  many  seconds,  but 
the  heavy,  flabby  mass  was  so  horrible  to  feel,  so  hot, 
stifling,  evil-smelling,  his  foul  breath  in  my  face,  I  could 
not  have  borne  it  much  longer. 

I  had  not  seen  the  Black  make  any  sign  for  the  dog 
to  attack  me,  though  I  thought  he  must  have  done  so. 
Again  I  saw  no  sign  given,  but  the  dog  left  me  as  sud- 
denly as  he  had  sprung  at  me,  and  let  me  get  up  and 
follow  the  Black  into  the  cabin.  The  dog  stayed  outside 
the  door. 

The  inside  of  the  cabin  was  in  one  room,  the  logs 
with  brush  between  showed  the  roof  above.  On  the 
side  opposite  the  door  was  a  low,  square,  small-paned. 
nailed-in  window  with  three  of  the  six  glass-panes  broken 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

out.  xA-cross  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  bunk  with  a 
broken,  straw  mattress  and  some  awfuUv  dirtv  bed- 
clothes  hanging  half  down  out  of  it. 

At  the  other  end  where  the  chimney  was,  stood  a 
large,  iron  cook-stove.  A  low  fire  was  going  in  it.  A 
large,  covered  sauce-pan  with  some  stew  was  there  set 
back  to  simmer.  A  tall,  tin  pot  full  of  water  was  on  the 
fire,  boiling.  In  the  corner  between  the  stove  and  the 
door  was  a  cupboard.  In  the  other  corner  by  the  stove 
some  firewood  lay  heaped  up.  Tow^ard  the  bunk  stood  a 
small,  rough  table  with  a  stool  near  by. 

The  w^hole  place  was  dirty  and  foul.  It  smelled  like 
the  Chinamen  aboard  the  steamer,  like  all  Chinese,  of 
opium. 

The  Black  had  gone  to  the  table  to  empty  the  leather 
bag  on  it.  It  was  full  of  money,  gold  and  diver.  He 
sat  down  to  count  it.  He  motioned  for  me  to  mend  the 
fire  in  the  stove.  I  went  there,  picked  up  some  sticks  and 
put  them  on  the  fire.  The  sticks  were  bush-branches  or 
brush,  cut  rather  long,  and  they  stuck  out  of  the  fire- 
hole  as  I  put  them  in  the  stove,  and  smoked  as  they 
burned.  It  made  the  Black  angry.  I  thought  it  was  this 
that  made  him  atigry,  but  soon  I  saw  there  must  be  some- 
thing wrong  about  the  money.  He  counted  it  over  and 
over,  put  it  back  in  the  leather  bag,  poured  it  out  on  the 
table  again,  counted  it  again,  put  it  into  the  bag  and  into 
his  pocket,  took  it  out  once  more,  counted  and  recounted 
it.  Then  he  went  hunting  round,  as  though  he  was  look- 
ing for  something  and  getting  more  and  more  mad  at  not 
finding  it,  always  going  back  to  the  counting  of  the 
money  after  first  putting  it  in  the  bag  and  into  his 
pocket,  as  if  that  was  part  of  the  counting.  I  did  not 
understand  what  he  was  hunting  round  for  ever>^vhere. 
What  I  really  thought  was  that  he  was  going  away  after 
that  strange  man,  about  the  money,  and  was  looking  for  a 
rope  to  bind  me  w^ith.     Besides  that,  I  thought  he  might 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

only  be  wanting  to  make  himself  mad  and  madder,  till 
mad  enough  to  turn  on  me  and  undo  me. 

He  was  standing  still  now,  looking  at  me.  His  hand 
was  on  his  knife.  The  scars  on  his  cheek  shone  horribly 
in  the  firelight.  But  he  turned  from  me,  run  to  the  door, 
called  in  the  dog,  spoke  to  him,  pointing  at  me  and 
rushed  out  of  the  door  closing  it  after  him.  I  heard  him 
open  the  gate,  mount  the  pony  and  go  awa}-  at  a  gallop. 

The  dog  lay  at  the  door  with  his  long  head  on  his 
clumsy  paws-  I  pretended  not  to  notice  him.  I  was  be- 
hind the  stove  near  the  wood-heajx  I  stood  quite  still. 
1  knew  without  a  weapon  I  was  no  match  for  him.  I 
began  to  move  about  a  little.  I  wanted  to  know  what 
he  would  do.  The  stovedoor  was  open.  There  was  some 
light  from  the  fire.  No  light  came  from  the  outside  any 
more.  I  picked  out  some  sticks  of  wood,  the  longest 
there  were,  and  shoved  them  into  the  fire  through  the 
open  stovedoor.  They  made  more  smoke  but  also  more 
light,  after  a  while  a  good  deal  of  light  and  fire.  But 
the  fire  did  not  reach  the  ends  of  the  long  sticks  project- 
ing outside  the  stove  door. 

I  tasted  the  stew  with  the  wooden  spoon  lying  on  the 
saucepan-lid.  It  was  good  and  I  ate  some  of  it.  The 
dog  did  not  interfere.  I  took  a  piece  of  the  stewed 
meat  and  put  it  on  a  stick  and  held  it  out  to  him,  when 
instantly  his  head  was  up,  snarling,  all  his  fangs  glisten- 
ing till  I  had  gone  behind  the  stove  again. 

I  wanted  a  drink  of  water  now  very  badly.  But  there 
was  only  the  water  boiling  in  the  tin  pot  on  the  stove. 

I  started  to  move  about  again.  Indififerently  I  took  a 
step  here  and  there.  I  opened  the  cupboard  door.  A 
box  with  crackers  stood  there  open,  half  empty.  I  took 
some  crackers  and  put  them  in  my  hind  pockets.  I  think 
I  really  w^as  looking  for  a  knife.  The  dog  was  watching 
me ;  everywhere  his  flat  eyes  with  the  red  light  of  the  fire 
shining  in  them  were  following  me.     I  moved  a  few  steps 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

over  to  the  little  table,  and  his  head  was  up  again  im- 
mediately, growling,  as  if  ordering  me  back  behind  the 
stove. 

I  had  put  more  wood  on  the  fire  again.  I  believe  I 
was  planning  now  to  fight  the  dog  with  the  long,  burn- 
ing sticks  of  brushwood  that  1  could  hold  by  their 
burned  ends. 

Tlien  it  all  had  happened  in  one  minute. 

There  was  a  noise  outside.  Some  sound !  I  had 
started.  The  dog  was  up  and  at  me.  I  snatched  the 
pot  from  the  stove  and  as  he  came  at  me  I  poured  the 
boiling  water  into  his  mouth,  down  his  throat,  as  he  fell, 
into  his  ears  and  eyes  and  nose-  I  tore  the  burning  sticks 
from  the  fire  and  pitched  them  into  the  bunk  on  the 
broken  straw  mattress  and  the  bed  clothes.  I  was  at  the 
door:  it  was  fastened  on  the  outside.  I  dragged  the 
table  to  the  window  and  the  stool  and  was  on  the  table 
and  kicked  out  the  sashbars  where  the  glass  panes  were 
out.  One  of  the  panes  broke  with  the  bars  a^d  made  a 
loud  noise.     I  was  outside  on  the  ground  I 

How  dark  it  was !  Stars  were  flaming !  How  near 
they  looked ! 

There  was  no  noise.     Xot  a  sound! 

I  was  over  the  gate.  The  Black  had  left  it  shut.  I 
was  running  on  the  trail  to  get  to  the  road  we  had  come 
on  in  the  buggy. 

1  was  thinking  how  the  dog  had  fallen  over  and  struck 
his  head  on  the  floor  with  a  strangled  gasp  and  lain 
like  dead. 

T  had  not  heard  it,  but  now  I  did.  A  noise!  Ahead! 
The  clatter  of  a  running  horse  coming  toward  me,  up 
the  road !  The  Black  coming  back !  And  it  was  then 
the  terrors  first  came  upon  me. 

I  had  turned  and  was  running  on  the  trail  by  the 
gate  along  the  upper  fence  of  the  field  the  cabin  stood  in, 
to  the  rear  corner  where  the  trail  branched  into  three. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

The  running  horse  seemed  to  be  right  behind  me.  I 
heard  it  snorting.  I  thought  I  felt  its  hot  breath.  Some- 
thing was  coming  rushing  on  to  seize  me.  In  running 
by  I  had  seen  in  the  cabin  window  the  flare  of  the  fire 
in  the  bunk  Hcking  up  the  brush  under  the  roof.  And 
the  fire  now  seemed  to  keep  with  me  and  make  me  visible 
to  what  was  coming  after  me. 

I  was  on  the  lowest  of  the  three  trails.  I  could  dis- 
tinguish one  side  of  it.  It  showed  a  darker  margin. 
Some  black  spots  were  in  the  trail.  I  thought  they  were 
large  holes  in  the  ground  and  jumped  over  them.  They 
were  low  stones  stuck  fast  in  the  ground.  I  stumbled 
over  them  and  went  falling  off  the  trail,  rolling,  sliding 
and  tumbling  down  the  steep,  pitching  over,  trying  to 
stop  and  stand,  and  then  diving  on  down  and  down,  where 
the  ground  turned  and  I  got  among  bushes;  after  me 
always  the  clatter  of  the  running  horse  on  the  hard 
adobe  road,  nearer,  closer.  I  knew  it  could  not  be,  it  was 
not,  it  was  but  in  me.  Yet  it  would  come  nearer  till  I 
would  rush  into  the  brush  and  stand  stuck-fast,  and 
listen.  Blacliness  and  utter  silence  all  around  my  heart 
knocking  in  my  ears,  till  a  twig  snapped  and  sent  me 
jumping  back  into  the  open  and  on,  slipping  and  fall- 
ing dow^n-hill  amongst  bushes  in  open  spaces.  Between 
black  tree-tops  above,  I  saw  the  stars.  Below  all  was 
black.  Once  the  ground  gave  way  and  let  me  down  slid- 
ing with  it.  It  was  loose  like  coarse  gravel.  I  hated  the 
noise  it  made  as  I  went  with  it  in  long  strides  in  a  slant- 
ing way  down  the  height,  fast  and  easy.  Then  the 
ground  grew  hard  again. 

It  changed  all  the  time.  Sometimes  it  became  quite 
level  and  again  so  steep  I  could  only  crawl  and  slide  or  go 
down  by  hand  from  bush  to  bush. 

Suddenly  a  broad  flame  was  before  me,  quite  near. 
No!  It  was  far  away.  It  was  the  moon  coming  up  out 
of  the  black  mountains  ahead. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Now  I  thought  I  knew  exactly  where  1  was,  or  at  least 
could  tell  just  where  our  wharf  was  and  our  bay ;  and  if  I 
could  only  get  on  top  of  the  wooded  hills  opposite  me 
where  the  moon  had  risen,  I  would  be  able  to  go  in  the 
direction  toward  it ;  a  little  to  one  side  under  the  moon ! 

The  ground  was  running  to  gravel  again  with  rocks  in 
it,  big  rocks.  I  was  slipping  dowm  between  them  and  had 
to  hold  on  by  the  bushes.  I  seemed  to  be  in  a  sort  of 
cleft  in  a  cliff.  The  rocks  were  bare  and  wet.  I  had 
caught  hold  of  the  branch  of  a  tree  pressing  up  in  the 
rocky  cleft  from  below.  I  could  not  see  the  moon  now, 
but  her  light  was  on  the  rocks  above  and  behind  me  and 
all  around.  I  was  in  the  top  of  a  tall  tree  with  many 
branches  with  whitish  bark,  rising  out  of  the  blackness 
below,  and  I  went  sliding  dow-n  till  I  landed  in  a  field  of 
big,  smooth  rocks,  beside  and  under  and  on  top  of  each 
other  with  trees  and  bushes  between. 

I  lieard  some  trickling  and  felt  a  dampness.  Between 
some  stones  at  my  hand  was  water  I  could  reach  to 
drink ;  and  it  was  as  though  I  must  have  died  had  I  not 
found  it. 

I  crawled  over  one  stoneblock  and  down  the  next  and 
the  next,  and  dragged  myself  up  another,  a  big,  smooth 
boulder  among  bushes  under  trees-  I  could  go  no  farther. 
I  could  go  on  no  more.  I  was  dead  beat.  I  lay  with  my 
face  on  the  stone.  Above  me  the  moon  shining  on  the 
wet  cliff  like  a  vision.  A  soft  noise  came  to  me  like  that 
of  the  surf  of  the  bay,  and  a  sharp  pain  cut  into  my  heart 
from  the  thought  of  our  wharf.    And  then  it  all  left  me. 


A   bird   was   calling   in   the  tree   above   my   head,   a 

pretty  bird  of  gray  and  white.  Another  one  came  flying 

by.    The  first  one  darted  after.  The  branch  shook  and  a 

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CHRONICLES  OP  MANUEL  ALANUS 

dry  leaf  came  jiggling  down  and  fell  with  a  faint  swish 
by  my  cheek  on  the  stone. 

The  blue  of  the  sky  and  the  sunlight  shone  everywhere 
through  between  the  leaves,  and  from  some  moving  water 
somewhere  below,  the  sunbeams  came  reflecte  1  and  went 
in  shining  light-lines  up  the  trunk,  along  the  coughs  and 
branches  and  out  under  the  leaves  of  the  tree  ever  me. 

It  was  a  large  tree  with  many  vv^hitish  blotches  on  the 
bark,  the  stout  trunk  leaning  quite  close  over  the  big, 
smooth  stone  on  which  I  lay,  and  then  going  up  straight 
to  a  great  height  with  large,  strong  branches. 

Another  tree  close  to  it  was  all  different  with  twisted 
trunk  and  branches,  light-brown  and  smooth,  naked-like, 
and  with  dark  green  leaves  that  glistened  as  though 
freshly  painted. 

Beside  it  stood  several  trees  together  that  were  the 
biggest  ones  of  all,  and  they  were  of  the  kinds  with  the 
pointed  tops,  all  straight,  with  deep-wrinkled  bark. 

Bushes  came  in  a  tangle  from  all  sides,  growing  over 
and  around  fallen  tree-trunks,  which  lay  with  their  dead 
branches  fallen  about  under  the  other  trees  and  over 
the  big  stone-blocks  and  over  and  under  each  other. 

Far  in  the  distance  something  was  cooing.  And  the 
trickling  of  the  water  was  going  on  all  the  time  so  gently 
even,  I  did  not  know  I  heard  it  and  did  not  think  of  water- 
Away,  up  above,  something  was  hammering.  A  bird 
of  white  and  black  and  scarlet  came  sweeping  like  a 
flash  down  and  on  to  the  biggest  tree.  And  it  was  this 
that  did  the  hammering.  I  had  thought  it  was  a  bird. 
He  stood  upright  on  the  rough  bark  of  the  tree  and 
hammered  with  liis  bill.  It  sounded  loud  through  all  the 
w^ood  till  the  bird  flew  away,  and  I  heard  him  hammer- 
ing again,  up  above,  far  away.  A  broad,  sunlight  spot 
had  come  on  the  stone  right  above  my  eyes,  near  my 
hand,  and  in  the  sunbeam  above  it  wee,  tiny,  flying,  little 
things   were   dancing  up   and   down   and   dashing  round 

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each  other,  darting  away  and  back  and  round  again  as 
in  play  and  standing  still  in  the  air,  almost  as  if  tied  to 
threads  too  fine  to  see,  and  worked  by  them.  And  now  an- 
other light-spot  came  and  another  and  more  yet,  and  in 
them  a  little  animal.  And  I  knew  it.  It  was  a  lizard; 
though  I  could  not  think  where  I  had  ever  seen  one  be- 
fore. It  had  the  friendliest,  twinkling  eyes.  I  thought  it 
looked  into  my  eyes.  It  thought  it  knew  me,  I  thought. 
I  winked.  It  did  not  stir.  I  moved  my  finger,  and  it 
was  gone,  and  I  was  sorry. 

I  wanted  to  try  if  I  could  see  where  it  had  scampered 
off  to,  but  when  I  went  to  move  my  head,  I  found  I 
was  so  sore  and  stiff  and  full  of  pains,  I  could  hardly 
stir- 
But  all  at  once  I  felt  no  more  soreness.  It  was  like  a 
shock.  I  lay  stark  still.  My  heart  beat  as  if  the  boulder 
under  me  were  quaking.  I  thought  I  heard  the  voices  of 
men.  It  was  nothing.  I  knew  it  right  away.  It  was  a 
bird  that  called  something  sounding  like :  "Look  out 
now  I  Look  out!"  Afterwards  I  saw  it.  A  beautiful 
bird,  grayish  blue  with  darker  wings  and  black  and  white 
markings,  and  with  a  proud,  little  feather  on  his  head. 

I  moved  a  little  and  gradually  pushed  and  slid  and 
worked  myself  down  from  my  big  boulder  and  over 
others.  They  lay  so  tumbled  together,  in  some  places  I 
could  hardly  make  my  way :  till  there  was  a  widening, 
and  I  came  to  a  water-hole. 

At  one  end  a  little  rill  of  water  ran  into  it,  falling 
over  the  stones,  clucking  to  itself.  At  the  other  end  it 
ran  out  the  same  way-  A  small  gravelly  sandbank  divided 
the  running  water  from  the  other  part,  the  still  pool, 
which  went  in  under  the  root  of  a  big  tree.  Along  both 
sides  lay  stones,  large  and  small,  and  farther  back,  high 
up  over  the  trees  shone  the  bare,  wet  cliff  where  all 
the  water-run  seemed  to  start  from,  out  of  a  slit  near  the 
top,  trickling  down  the  rock-face. 

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When  I  knelt  down  on  the  gravelly  sand-spit  that 
curved  round  the  pool  up  to  the  big  tree  just  like  a  little 
low  beach,  and  leaned  over  the  water  to  drink,  I  saw  I  was 
black  and  grimy  with  dust  and  dirt,  dried  blood  and  other 
stains,  that  it  was  not  myself  at  all  that  I  looked  like. 
Even  the  white  of  my  eyes  was  blackish.  And  my  shirt 
was  torn  to  tatters. 

I  drank,  and  the  water  seemed  to  give  me  life  all 
through  me.  It  was  very  cold.  And  it  was  so  clear, 
I  could  see  in  the  pool  every  little  stone  and  small  piece 
of  waterlogged  wood  and  pit  of  gravel  and  speck  of  any- 
thing on  the  brownish  bottom.  There  was  reflected  the 
stones  and  the  big  tree-root  twisted  out  over  the  water, 
and  the  grasses,  every  plant  around  the  root,  and  part  of 
the  rough  trunk,  the  green-leaved  bushes,  branches,  the 
bare,  wet  cliff  among  the  high  trees,  and  higher  still  rocks, 
crags,  peaks  holding  up  the  sky,  and  in  the  middle  of  it  all 
myself;  all  like  a  picture. 

I  drank  more  water.  It  was  the  finest  I  ever  had 
tasted.  When  I  had  drunk  I  began  to  wash  my  face  a 
little.  I  remembered  I  had  left  my  liat  in  the  log  hut 
of  the  Black.  I  took  off  the  red  silk  handkerchief  from 
my  neck.  It  was  all  spoiled  with  dirt  and  sweat.  I  felt 
sorry  about  it.  I  felt  sorry,  too,  that  I  had  left  my  hat 
behind-  But  I  was  glad  I  had  not  taken  it  along  and 
lost  it.     I  thought  it  was  burnt  now. 

I  washed  the  handkerchief  in  the  running  water  as 
well  as  I  could  and  spread  it  on  a  smooth  stone  block 
in  the  sun  to  dry.  My  shirt  had  been  very  much  torn  to 
pieces  only  my  overalls  coming  up  so  high  on  my  breast 
and  back  had  saved  it  somewhat.  The  overalls  of  such 
stout  stuff",  fitting  snug  and  being  stuck  in  the  boots, 
were  but  little  torn,  only  chafed  and  scratched  pretty 
badly.  And  my  boots  were  no  more  than  scratched  from 
the  rocks  and  a  little  muddy  and  wet  from  the  water. 

I  took  everything  off.     My  boots  I  wiped  with  some 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

leaves  and  put  them  in  the  sun.  In  the  hind-pocket  of 
my  overalls  I  found  the  crackers  I  had  taken  from  the 
box  in  the  log  cabin.  They  were  all  smashed  to  crumbs. 
I  turned  them  very  carefully  out  on  to  a  large,  flat, 
smooth  stone,  moistened  them  with  a  little  water  and  ate 
them.  I  washed  the  overalls  and  spread  them  out  on  the 
hottest,  smooth  rock.  In  the  breastpockets  of  my  shirt 
I  found  the  sweatmeat  the  Chinaman  aboard  the  steam- 
boat had  given  me.  It  was  quite  a  job  to  get  it  out  of 
the  pockets  it  had  been  so  squeezed  and  flattened  out. 
It  had  got  wet,  too.  I  laid  it  down  by  the  handkerchief. 
1  did  not  want  to  eat  it  then.  My  shirt  I  washed  most 
carefully,  not  to  tear  it  more,  and  spread  it  on  another 
stone  in  the  sun  to  dry,  while  I  got  in  the  water  to  wash 
my  whole  head  and  body. 

The  pool  was  not  deep.  The  water  was  not  above  my 
navel  when  I  stood  on  the  deepest  spot.  There  was  no 
room  to  swim,  but  I  could  float  there  well  and  turn  about. 
1  had  first  washed  my  face  again  and  scrubbed  my  head, 
using  sand  for  soap.  A  long  time  I  lay  on  my  back 
on  the  rocks  where  the  water  was  shallowest,  to  let  it  run 
over  my  open  eyes  as  it  came  jumping  off  the  stones  above 
on  to  my  head. 

I  stayed  in  the  water  so  long,  I  was  chilled  clear 
through  when  I  came  out.  I  sat  on  the  hot  stones  in 
the  sun  to  get  warm,  but  as  I  got  warmer  my  hurts  and 
wounds  began  to  pain  me  a  good  deal,  though  not  so  much 
after  I  had  turned  a  little  warmer.  As  soon  as  my 
clothes  were  dry  I  put  them  on.  I  put  the  two  pieces 
of  sweetmeat  back  into  the  shirt  pockets.  I  ate  a  little 
off  them  to  make  them  fit  easier.  It  tasted  good.  But 
I  could  do  without  eating  yet.  The  handkerchief  I 
tied  round  my  head.  My  boots  I  put  on  as  before, 
over  my  overalls.  I  had  picked  up  a  straight  stiff  stick, 
as  long  as  a  fishing-rod.  It  was  deadwood  but  very  tough 
and  not  heavy  at  all.     I  had  tried  several  sticks  before  I 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

liacl  found  this  one  which  was  smooth  and  just  fitting  my 
hand,  to  steady  myself  with  as  I  went  chmbing  my  way 
amongst  the  rocks,  following  the  water. 

It  was  like  a  stream  of  stones  through  the  wild  woods, 
between  the  steep  heights  that  rose  on  both  sides.  In  the 
middle  the  stones  were  more  smooth.  Toward  the  sides 
lay  more  rough  blocks  and  boulders,  and  piles  of  rocks 
and  whole  pieces  of  hills,  as  if  it  had  all  slidden  down 
from  the  heights. 

Trees  and  bushes  were  everywhere.  Shrubs  and 
soft  plants  with  young  shoots  grew  between  the  smooth 
stones  and  spread  themselves  out  over  them,  and  trees 
crowded  in  from  both  sides  and  pieces  of  dead  wood 
lay  about,  big  branches,  whole  logs,  all  weathered-out. 
Often  it  was  hard  to  get  through.  But  it  w^as  always 
easiest  to  get  along  where  the  smooth  stone  blocks 
were  lying  along  the  centre.  Away  from  them,  the 
trees  stood  closer,  the  brush  was  denser;  and  then 
above  came  the  rocky  heights  to  the  rii;ht  and  left, 
where  the  tall  trees  with  the  pointed  tops  grew  up  to  the 
edge,  peering  over  and  in  between  bright  fields  of  chap- 
arral. 

From  the  tall  trees  came  a  sound  like  the  surf.  I 
could  hear  it.  but  1  could  not  see  the  trees  move.  I  felt 
no  wind.  There  was  no  fog.  It  was  warm.  The  air 
was  pure  and  sweet.  And  everything  was  oh !  so  clear 
and  bright  and  beautiful  in  the  sunshine  everywhere. 

The  big,  smooth  stone  blocks  were  in  all  places 
packed  with  smaller  ones,  and  between  the  stones  was 
water,  often  forming  puddles.  The  water  was  always 
quite  cold,  though  the  stones  in  the  sun  were  so  warm. 

The  water,  everywhere  was  very  low  and  running 
out  a  little  more  all  the  time.  But  at  times  it  must  have 
been  much  higher.  For  in  places  there  were  short 
benches  of  arlobe  with  sand  on  top,  and  I  could  see  where 
the  sand  and  clay  liad  been  v.ashed  away  from  the  roots- 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

of  the  bushes  growing  there.  And  grass  which  now  was 
all  dry  and  dead.  Small  drift-wood  had  been  carried 
against  the  bushes  and  held  there,  all  of  which  must  have 
been  done  by  water  when  it  was  higher  in  the  creek,  like 
tides  in  the  bay. 

At  certain  places,  I  fancied  I  \vas  deeper  down  in  the 
canyon  than  at  others,  the  creek-botton  changing  to  a 
narrow,  bare  bed  of  rock  with  no  loose  stones  round 
and  with  more  precipitous  sides.  And  down  the  sides 
were  runs  or  trails  in  the  bush  straight  to  the  bottom. 
Some  of  these  trails  were  dry  water-ways,  I  could  tell ; 
others  I  could  not  think  what  had  made  them.  In  some 
of  them  I  tried  to  go  up,  because  I  always  felt  like 
climbing  to  the  top  somewhere,  to  see  where  I 
was.  But  1  never  could  get  up  far  before  the 
ground  would  turn  too  steep  and  rough,  with  rocky 
gravel-top.  Or  the  run  would  die  out  rio;ht  in  the 
chaparral  under  some  clifif.  And  through  the  chaparral 
1  never  could  make  my  way,  I  had  soon  found  out. 
It  was  too  dense  and  tough,  like  a  matting  of  twisted 
twigs ;  you  could  not  tear  it.  nor  l.Tcak  it.  Everything 
covering  the  ground  was  the  same:  woody-tough.  Fresh 
grass  and  soft  plants  grew  only  where  moii^ture  was  in  the 
ground. 

Such  moist  spots  in  the  shade  would  look  bright  and 
green  as  though  the  sun  was  shining  on  them.  There  was 
gr.-^ss  in  bloom,  big-leaved  plants,  and  so  many  beautiful 
dowsers  of  many  kinds,  some  so  small,  T  had  not 
thought  before  there  could  be  any  so  tiny. 

When  I  was  at  the  top-end  of  such  a  run,  I  always 
thought  I  must  be  up  quite  high,  but  I  was  not,  and  T 
never  could  see  anything  more  than  could  be  seen  be- 
low. I  constantly  heard  a  rustling  under  the  brush, 
but  nothing  ever  came  out.  One  little  bird  I  saw 
where  at  the  edge  of  the  chaparral  a  tree  had  fallen 
and  struck  down  others  and  made  a  h\^  cleara^e  in  the 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

brush.  It  was  a  small,  gray  bird  with  black  head  and 
neck  and  throat,  like  a  hood,  so  black  I  could  barely 
distinguish  his  black  eyes  and  bill.  He  was  searching 
among  the  sparse,  dead  leaves  right  at  my  feet,  step- 
ping about,  turning  every  little  while  his  head  to  look 
at  me,  not  afraid,  but  as  if  amused  at  my  watching 
him  catching  moths.  And  all  my  life  since,  I  have  not 
forgotten  that  little  bird. 

Two  animals  came  jumping  on  the  fallen  tree  and 
when  they  saw  me,  made  a  great  ado,  scolding,  calling: 
"Chick!  Chick!"  They  looked  a  good  deal  like  the 
dusty  animals  with  bushy  tails  I  had  seen  the  day  be- 
fore running  across  the  road  in  front  of  the  team.  They 
were  smaller  though  and  much  prettier,  striped  black 
and  gray  and  brown.  Their  tails  were  much  smaller 
and  not  bushy.  They  kept  whisking  them  all  the  time, 
making  a  noise.  I  liked  them.  But  just  as  soon  as  I 
moved  they  raced  away. 

Little,  black  insects  were  everywhere  traveling  along 
the  dead-wood,  on  the  ground,  over  the  rocks,  up  the  trees 
and  down.  I  knew  them,  they  were  ants,  but  some  were 
bigger  than  any  I  had  ever  seen. 

I  knew  many  things.  Among  the  stones,  wherever 
there  was  water,  a  pale,  green  plant  was  growing  with 
a  broad,  whitish,  small-flowering,  flat  top,  which  was 
a  bad  plant  to  eat,  although  it  looked  very  much  like  a 
garden  plant  that  was  good  to  eat.  And  a  bush  grow- 
ing all  about  with  leaves  turning  red  was  very  bad 
to  touch. 

The  large,  big  trees  with  the  pointed  tops,  high  above 
the  others  how  wonderful  they  were!  Straight  and 
lofty,  taller  than  the  tallest  mast  of  any  ship !  Some 
w^ere  mast-high  before  they  gave  off  any  limbs.  Many 
of  them  were  scorched,  others  had  been  badly  burnt 
but  had  green  tops.  Others  yet  were  rotted  to  the  top 
and  still  had  some  green  branches.     On  the  trunks  of 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

many  was  yellow  moss  :  on  the  branches,  too,  all  on  the 

same  side.  ,      , 

When  I  came  back  from  the  trails  to  the  creek.  1 
would  sometimes  try  to  see  where  I  had  been  how 
far  up  on  the  trails.  But  I  never  could  tell,  except  that 
I  had  not  gone  very  far.  Very  seldom  could  I  dis- 
tinguish from  below  any  trees  that  I  had  taken  notice 
of  above  Thev  looked  so  different  from  diMerent 
points.  The  rocks,  too,  sticking  out  everywhere  were 
confusing.     It  was  all  confusion. 

As  I  journeyed  on  I  always  felt  the  heat  more  where 
the   rocks   were   bare    and   the   tall   timber   ceased       In 
one  place  it  was  stifling  hot.     The  green  had  nearly  all 
disappeared.     I   was   in   a   gorge   of   solid   rock      Ihe 
sides  were  walls  that  hung  over  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  canvon.     There  was  no  shade.     The  sun  was  high. 
The  gorge  narrowed  in  to  where  there  was  a  ledge  across 
from  side  to  side  like  a  rude  dam,  as  high  as  my  head^ 
There     was     no     water.       It     might     be     drained     off 
through   cracks  in  the   rocky  bottom.     It   must  have 
been  high  enough  to  go  over  the  dam  some  time  or 
other,  l"  could  tell  by  the  marks.     I  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  dam  and  looked  over.     It  was  a  good  deal  deeper 
down  than  the  bottom  above.     I  could  not  jump  it.  but 
I  could  work  my  wav  along  the  top  of  the  dam  to  one 
side  of  the  gorge  where  rocks  had  fallen  from  above  m 
a  heap,  to  which  I  could  lower  myseslf  over  the  dam. 
hanging  w^ith  mv  hands  to  the  edge. 

Where  the  gorge  ended  was  a  small  dry,  rocky, 
sandv  plain  with  a  great  number  of  dead  trees,  streach- 
h,^  out  their  white,  naked  branches  as  though  for 
help  As  I  was  looking  at  them  I  saw  far  away  the 
cliff  with  the  lone  tree  near  the  top  with  the  one  green 
branch,  like  a  rag  of  a  flag,  I  had  seen  the  evenmg  be- 
fore from  the  broad-backed  mountain. 

I    slipped   behind   the   nearest   big   rock.     I    telt   as 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

though  I  could  be  seen  from  up  there.  Yet  it  looked 
so  far  and  so  high  up,  it  seemed  impossible  that  1  had 
come  so  far  and  down  from  such  a  height.  And  I 
wanted  to  think  it  was  not  the  tree  I  knew  it  to  be.  I 
kept  moving  on  behind  big  stones,  till  I  could  see  it 
no  more. 

The  wooded  heights  on  both  sides  were  changed. 
The  one  was  a  mountain-side  with  many  trees,  the 
other  a  rising  bank  with  a  large  field  of  chaparral,  slop- 
ing up,  back ;  and  in  the  chaparral  I  saw  an  opening,  as 
if  a  road  came  down  there,  to  the  top  of  the  bank. 

I  hid  behind  a  boulder  to  watch.  I  saw  very  soon  it 
was  no  road.  It  bore  no  tracks  of  wagons,  or  horses, 
and  it  came  dead  onto  the  o-dgt  of  the  bank  over  the  stony 
creek.  In  the  middle  of  it  was  a  rocky  gutter.  It  was  a 
dry  water-course,  I  was  certain.  It  had  a  thin  edging  of 
withered  grass  and  small  weeds.  On  each  side  was  a  space 
like  a  walk,  up  the  slope  through  the  chaparral,  as  if  be- 
tween dense  hedges. 

The  scarp  of  the  bank  was  steep,  but  by  the  roots  of 
the  cliaparral  I  could  easily  climb  up  to  the  top  of  the 
bank  from  where  the  course  went  up  at  a  very  easy 
grade,  always  about  the  same  width.  The  walking  v/as 
bad.  The  ground  was  hard  and  covered  with  little 
crumbs  of  rock,  all  the  time  turning  under  foot  and 
slipping.  And  the  chaparral  was  just  too  high  for  me 
to  look  over  and  see  anything  before  me,  save  the  sky. 
Every  few  minutes  I  stood  still  to  listen.  I  only  heard 
the  distant  mournful  cooing,  the  faint  sound  of  the  air 
in  the  tree-tops  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek  and  the 
rustling  under  the  brush.  Several  times  I  wanted  to 
turn  back.  But  I  kept  on  walking  till  I  should  come 
to  the  end  of  the  course,  or  to  where  I  could  see  some- 
thing.   Another  moment  and  I  was  at  the  end. 

It  was  an  open,  bare,  irregularly  round  place  in  the 
chaparrnl  field,  of  such  as  I  had  already  seen  many.     In 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  middle  of  it  was  a  big  heap  of  rocks.  Not  rocks 
like  the  ones  in  the  creek,  smooth  and  clean,  but  dirty 
and  old-looking,  as  though  broken  out  of  the  ground* 
long  ago  and  then  split  and  fallen  together  again, 
weather-worn,  covered  with  decay  and  much  overgrown 
with  creepers  and  shrubs  ! 

In  front  of  the  rock-pile  the  water-gutter  started. 
But  the  water  was  not  now  enough  to  run.  The 
ground  was  but  just  damp.  I  walked  round  the  whole 
clear  space.  It  was  completely  closed  in,  with  no  other 
outlet  but  the  course  I  had  come  up.  When  I  turned 
to  the  rocks  I  found  the  ones  in  back  covered  with  creep- 
ers full  of  berries  that  I  knew.  They  were  blackberries 
and  I  ate  them  every  one.  I  clambered  up  the  rocks  to 
look  for  more,  but  I  found  none. 

From  the  rocks  I  could  look  over  the  chaparral  and 
see  everything  around. 

Before  me  was  the  slope  down  to  my  creek  and  the 
mountain  opposite,  so  steep  it  looked  to  be  hard  for 
the  big  trees  there  to  stand  erect  and  hold  on  with 
their  roots  and  keep  from  slipping  down.  Behind  me 
trees  and  rocks  rose  from  the  great  field  of  chaparral  to 
dense  woods  and  cliffs  and  peaks,  and  to  the  other  side 
all  the  hills  and  woods  fell  away  together  to  a  distant 
V-shaped  cut.  And  in  the  cut,  away  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see,  dim  in  the  shiny,  whitish  haze  was  a  pale, 
gray  flat-land,  such  as  I  had  come  through  in  the  buggy 
with  that  strange  man,  the  day  before. 

A  large  butterfly,  orange  with  black  and  cobalt  mark- 
ings, lit  on  a  large  yellow  flower  growing  on  the  rocks 
below  my  head,  spreading  his  wings  to  the  sun,  as  if 
breathing,  flying  away  again  immediately,  staggering 
as  though  with  the  heat. 

It  was  so  warm,  I  felt  it  like  some  substance,  pouring 
over  my  skin.  From  every  stick  of  dead-wood,  from 
every  bare  rock,  the  air  went  trembling  up.     AH  else 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

was  motionless  and  still,  as  if  being  kept  down  by  the 
weight  of  the  sunbeams!  The  big  trees  in  the  dis- 
tance on  silent  guard,  waiting,  watching,  lookii>g-  over 
each  other's  heads  !  The  faint  sighing  of  the  tree-tops ! 
The  unchanging  cooing,  mournfully  sounding  from 
afar!  And  dowm  toward  the  cut  in  the  mountain- 
ranges,  slowly  soared  a  large  bird!  Maybe  the  bird 
I  saw  hanging  over  the  narrow  valley  the  afternoon 
before ! 

Then  came  startlingly  near  the  noise  of  the  hammer- 
ing bird. 

Another  sound  came  upon  my  ear.  In  the  air  close 
to  my  face  stood  a  very  small  bird  with  a  long,  thin  bill 
and  a  beautiful,  flashing-green  throat.  His  wings 
moved  so  quickly  I  could  see  them  but  as  a  shadow. 
They  made  the  noise  of  the  purring  of  a  cat.  He 
moved  nearer  to  my  ear.  I  guessed  he  wanted  to  catch 
at  my  red  handkerchief.  But  it  really  looked  as  if  he 
wanted  to  tell  me  something.  He  shot  away  so  quickly 
I  could  not  see  where  he  went. 

I  had  climbed  up  on  the  rocky  mound  a  little  higher 
when  I  heard  the  bird  again.  I  thought  I  did.  It 
sounded  like  his  noise,  and  quite  near.  As  I  turned  I 
saw  lying  on  a  shelf  of  rock  at  my  elbow,  coiled  in  a 
sort  of  double  loop,  a  horrible,  long,  scaly  snake,  thicker 
than  my  arm,  waving  his  three-cornered  head  and  run- 
ning out  his  black,  slitted  tongue  at  me  and  shaking 
his  tail,  which  made  the  whirring  sound  I  jumped 
right  back  sideways  clear  of  the  rocks,  almost  tumbling 
over.  Then  I  stood  ready  with  my  stick  for  him  to 
come.     But  he  did  not  come. 

Right  after  that  I  had  a  terrible  scare.  I  thought  I 
saw  the  Black.  It  was  the  stump  of  an  old  burnt  tree 
in  the  chaparral.  I  had  seen  it  before,  too,  but  from  the 
other  side.  From  this  side  it  looked  a  little  like  the 
form  of  a  man,  standing  bent  over.     I  felt  weak  in  my 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

knees  after  the  fright  all  the  way  down,  running  back 
to  my  stony  creek. 

I  wanted  some  water  to  drink  very  much  and  when 
finally  I  came  where  there  was  some  again  in  the  creek 
I  could  not  get  enough  for  a  long  time,  till  water  be- 
came more  plentiful  again.  In  some  pools  I  saw  some 
minnows.  But  there  never  was  water  enough  for 
larger  fish.  Funny,  thin,  little  flies  or  spiders  I  noticed 
standing  on  the  water  on  their  feet  and  moving  round, 
pushing  their  feet  about.  And  the  shadow  on  the  bottom 
looked  as  though  they  had  on  some  kind  of  big,  square 

shoes. 

No  real,  full  shade  had  ever  been  in  the  creek  and 
when  the  sunshine  suddenly  ceased  I  looked  to  see 
what  could  be  the  matter.  The  sun  had  gone  behind 
the  heights.  Very  soon  it  grew  cooler,  a  little  air  was 
coming  up  the  creek,  the  sounding  of  the  surf  was 
louder,  some  birds  were  calling,  the  mosquitoes  were 
buzzing,  and  the  shade  deepened. 

I  had  just  finished  eating  my  sweetmeat,  standing  at 
a  bend  of  the  creek  where  there  was  some  water,  when 
ahead  of  me  an  animal  came  out  of  the  brush  into  the 
creek  and  commenced  to  drink.  It  looked  like  a  dog 
hut  it  was  not.  It  stood  higher  in  the  legs  than  a 
dog.  It  had  come  very  softly  on  one  of  those  down- 
hill trails,  making  hardly  any  noise.  Only  that  I  was 
standing  quite  still  and  just  looking  in  that  direction 
so  as  to  see  it,  I  should  not  have  known  of  its  coming 
and  being  there.  I  did  not  move  and  made  no  noise, 
but  pretty  soon  it  swiftly  turned  its  head  to  me  and 
when  it  saw  me,  started  as  if  it  had  been  struck.  I 
held  out  my  hand  to  it  and  snapped  my  fingers.  It 
lifted  its  lip  at  me  and  slunk  away  into  the  bush. 

When  I  had  finished  my  sweetmeat  I  started  on 
again  always  keeping  on  down  the  canyon.  It  was  now 
good  walking.     The   bigger   stones   lay   farther   apart 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  the  cobbles  made  an  evener  bottom.  The  water 
was  sunk  away  again  till  it  was  barely  wet  between 
the  cobbles.  It  was  getting  dusk.  For  a  little  while 
I  had  heard  a  rustling  and  crackling  in  the  bush  and 
had  thought  here  must  come  a  big  animal,  but  this  time 
it  was  only  a  little  fellow,  not  bigger  than  a  small  kit- 
ten, that  came  into  the  creek.  He  was  long-haired  and 
black,  with  a  long,  bushy  tail  and  two  white  stripes 
from  the  forehead  down  the  back  and  tail.  He  went 
unconcernedly  nosing  and  pawing  about  over  the  cob- 
bles. And  now  he  must  have  seen  me.  He  came 
straight  towards  me  where  I  was  standing.  He  was 
only  a  young  fellow.  He  might  not  be  of  a  kind  to 
grow  much  bigger  but  I  could  tell  he  was  only  a  young 
animal.  Like  a  little  child  I  wanted  to  stroke  him  if 
I  could  be  sure  it  would  not  scare  him.  He  rubbed 
himself  round  my  legs,  ran  ahead  a  little,  came  back 
and  kept  at  my  feet,  making  a  little,  chattering  noise  as 
if  telling  me  of  something  he  wanted  me  to  do.  I 
walked  ahead  slowly,  careful  not  to  step  on  him.  He 
did  not  care  how  much  he  stepped  on  my  toes,  chat- 
tering away,  telling  me  a  long  story,  till  I  bent  over  and 
held  down  my  hand.  As  if  that  were  what  he  had 
wanted  me  to  do  he  came  right  up  to  it.  ran  his  mouth 
over  it,  but  not  to  bite,  put  his  little  forepaws  in  it, 
with  the  sharp,  small  nails,  and  tried  to  snuggle  into  it. 
It  was  the  warmth  of  it  he  liked,  I  thought,  for  his 
belly  hair  was  wet  and  his  feet  were  cold.  But  my 
hand  was  too  small.  He  kept  slipping  out,  though  he 
tried  hard  to  hold  on.  And  then  he  stood  and  stamped 
his  forefeet  and  chattered  exactly  as  if  scolding  me.  So 
I  put  my  stick  under  my  arm  to  put  down  both  hands  to 
lift  him  to  my  breast. 

At  that  moment  I  saw  a  light,  a  small  moving  light, 
then  another  and  another. 

I  had  for  a  second  not  known  what  it  meant.     They 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

were  small,  little  things  flying  about,  which  were  like 
sparks  of  light,  such  as  I  had  often  seen  moving  m  the 
water  of  the  bay  at  our  wharf.     It  had  startled  me  to 
Tee  the  things,  and  when  I  turned  again  to  the  young 
fellow,  he  w^as  gone.     I  could  not  thmk  how  he  could 
have  left  me  so  all  at  once.     I  felt  so  sorry  I  d  d  not 
know  what  to  do.     I  made  a  chattering  noise  with  my 
mouth  to  call  him,  but  I  got  no  answer     1  could  not 
hear  him  move,  though  a  dozen  times  I  thought  I  saw 
him      Every  black  spot  I  took  to  be  him.     It  was  get- 
ting dark  so  fast  now,  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  any_ 
thing.     I  walked  back  a  little  way  to  where  I  had 
passed  a  large  smooth  stone.     I  climbed  upon  it.     I  sat 
and  waited  if  he  would  not  come  to  me     In  my  sleep  1 
vet  felt  sorrv  he  had  left  me,  and  I   dreamed  of  him, 
hat  I  felt  his  fur.    And  once  in  the  night  I  half  awoke 
from  something  breathing  in  my  face  and  jumping  away 
from  me  in  the  darkness. 

In  the  morning  it  was  cool  and  a  light  fog  bung  in  the 
woods.  But  as  soon  as  the  sun  was  risen,  it  became  al 
clear  and  hot.  I  was  thinking  again  of  that  little  aiumal 
and  looked  for  it  in  the  bushes  as  I  went  along.  I  looked 
for  blackberries,  too,  but  found  none.  Some  other  little 
berries  I  did  find  that  I  could  eat.  They  grew  on  low 
thorny  shrubs  and  were  sort  of  hairy.  They  were  not 
bad,  but  there  were  not  many.  I  drank  water,  whenever 
I  could  find  it,  for  my  hunger.  It  was  growing  scarcer  all 
the  time  and  at  last  there  was  no  more  at  all.  Ihe  creek 
was  all  dry ;  just  dry,  bare,  blistering  hot  rocks 

A  wide,  stony  ledge  was  in  the  creek-bottom,  going 
up  the  face  of  the  canyon-walls  on  both  sides  and 
beyond  this  ledge  all  was  black  from  fire  Bushes  brush 
and  trees  were  burned  and  charred,  the  rocks  black- 
ened, white  ashes  covering  the  ground.  .\11  the  green 
was  gone  but  the  tops  of  the  tall  trees  where  the  fire 
had  not  reached.     On  the  black  brush  hung  scorched 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

leaves  red  as  if  yet  on  fire.  Many  trees  had  fallen  ;  big, 
broken  branches  hung  about,  and  the  creek  was  full  of 
half  burnt  wood. 

A  large  tree  had  fallen  across  the  gulch,  clear  from 
one  steep  side  to  the  other,  high  above  the  creek- 
bottom.  1  tried  to  get  up  to  it.  I  climbed  up  to  the 
tree  roots  that  were  torn  out  of  the  ground  and  I  got 
through  the  root-work  to  the  top  of  the  big  log  and 
walked  over  to  the  other  side.  The  timber  was  quite 
sound,  only  broken  in  two,  three  lengths,  lying,  fol- 
lowing the  shape  of  the  hill-side. 

It  was  slow  work  getting  up  to  the  top  end  of  the 
fallen  tree .  And  then  there  was  nothing  to  see, 
nothing  but  the  opposite  height  burnt  over  the  same 
as  the  side  I  was  on :  white  ashes  and  charred  wood 
all  round,  stumps  and  butts,  and  logs,  all  black. 

The  sun  was  down  and  night  was  coming  on  again. 
T  sat  in  the  top  of  the  fallen  tree  where  it  lay  on  the 
ground.  The  green  of  it  was  not  all  burnt.  Some  of  it 
was  yet  alive.  I  chewed  some  of  it.  It  tasted  sour- 
ish. I  could  not  eat  it,  but  it  drew  my  mouth  and 
mv  insides,  and  then  I  did  not  feel  so  hungry,  and  I  fell 
asleep. 

In  the  night  I  aw^oke  shuddering.  A  cold  wind  was 
blowing,  rushing  through  the  dead  forest,  rustling  the 
scorched  leaves  on  the  bushes,  knocking  down  branches 
and  sticks  from  the  charred  trees.  The  moon  was  up 
shining  ghastly  white  on  all  the  black  shapes.  I  could 
not  help  watching  them  till  they  seemed  to  move,  to  start 
up  to  come  toward  me,  as  I  looked  fixedly  at  them. 

When  it  was  daylight  I  walked  back  on  the  fallen 
log  over  the  creek.  Near  the  other  side  I  slipped  and 
fell.  I  managed  to  catch  one  of  the  long,  tough  roots 
of  the  tree  and  save  myself,  but  I  came  near  having  a 
bad  fall. 

It  was  foolish  to  walk  back  on  the  steeply-lying  log.     It 

216 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

was  foolish  to  go  up  across  on  the  log  m  the  first  place 
All  thb  climbing,  looking  round,  loitering,  were  .mpruden 
things  to  do.     I  knew  it.     I  must  not  do  it  any  more      1 
musf  pull  myself  together,  keep  moving  forward  along 

*  Thrburnt  woods  had  come  to  an  end.  E^'^^-^'^'li"^ 
was  green  again.  Water  was  commg  down  a  Utt  e 
Tavinftnto  the  creek,  and  I  could  drink  every  httle 

while.    The  creek  did  not  go  dry  any  more.    I  walked 

on  steadily.    I  could  go  but  slowly. 

There  were  more  bushes  growmg  nght  on  the  banks 

of  the  creek.     I  could  not  see  the  sun  for  them^    The 

banks  were  different.     The  whole  creek  -s  different . 

Rocks  and  cliffs  had  not  been  m  n  for  a  long  "m    • 

the  stoneblocks  had  become  ^'"^f  ^h     .ohh le    had 
there  were  no  more  of  them  at  all.     The  cobble,  had 
turned    to    pebbles.     The    hill-sides    no    longer    rose 
straight  out  of  the  creek  from  the  bottom  up      banks 
of  adobe  and  black  loam  were  on  each  side,  on  which 
the  bushes  grew,  tall  and  close,  leanmj;  together  ox  er 
;:  creek.  m\ku,g  a  leafy  shade.     .And  the  bed  o    th 
creek  was  of  sand  and  silt,  wule  and  level_,  the  water 
in  a  shallow  little  stream  winding  its  ^^ay  trom  s.de  to 
.ide  so  slowh-,  it  was  sometimes  hard  to  tell  winch  wa> 
it  ran :   form'ing  little  islands  an<l  bars  and  beaches  ot 
mud  and  sand  and  gravel.  ■,,,„, 

For  the  bushes  I  could  see  nothing,  but  1  tanced  tha 
,t  took  longer  for  the  daylight  to  go  away,  and  that 
after  that  it  turned  dusk  quicker.  1  was  forcing  myself 
along,  following  the  glint  of  the  water.  Several  times 
I  went  amiss.  Once  I  got  into  soft  mud  ana  twice  I 
walked  into  the  water,  and  when  I  awoke  l  ^vas  Ivmg 
It  the  edge  of  a  little  gravel-bar.  my  lett  elbow  m  the 
water,  where  I  must  have  fallen  down  in  exhaustion. 

I  was  dreaming  I  was  at  Antonio's,  milking  the  cow. 
The   girl,   his   daughter,   the   oldest   one   ot   all   Jmi  s 

217 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

wife's,  the  Dark  Woman's  children  had  taught  me  how- 
to  milk  into  my  mouth,  to  drink  the  milk;  lying 
under  the  cow  and  stripping  the  teat,  catching  the  milk 
on  the  lower  teeth  under  the  lip,  between  the  teeth 
and  the  lip ;  and  I  was  in  my  dream  trying  to  get 
milk  from  the  cow  that  way,  but  could  not  do  it. 
The  cow  was  uneasy,  lowing,  the  lowing  sounding 
curiously  distant,  the  milk  all  squirting  by  my  mouth  onto 
my  left  arm,  wetting  it.  And  that  awakened  me,  and  I 
found  the  little  water  of  the  creek  washing  up  to  my 
shoulder. 

And  just  then  I  heard  the  distant  lowing  of  a  cow 
as  I  had  heard  it  in  my  dream,  while  between  the 
green  on  the  bank  of  the  creek  came  the  level  rays 
of  the  sun  shooting  through  in  the  white  vapor  filling 
all  the  bushes. 

I  clambered  up  the  bank  and  looking  out  of  the 
bush,  I  saw  I  was  in  a  large,  open  flat  land  over  which 
the  sun  had  just  risen.  Some  taller,  round-top  trees 
were  scattered  about,  looking  in  the  farther  distance 
like  a  close  wood.  Otherwise  it  was  empty.  And 
there  were  no  cows. 

I  went  back  into  the  creek  and  climbed  out  on  the 
other  side.  There  was  the  same  all-level  land,  still 
more  bare  of  trees.  But  nearby,  close  to  the  creek,  a 
little  back,  were  low,  rolling  hills,  swelling  up  in 
knobs  and  knolls  and  wide-branching  stretches,  spread 
out  almost  like  the  fingers  on  a  hand,  the  level  valley- 
bottom  going  away  in  between  the  branching  slopes 
and  ranges,  and  round  and  round  all  the  dents  and 
spurs,  exactly  like  the  waters  of  our  bay  round  the 
land  shapes  there. 

The  hills  looked  every  way  like  the  hills  we  had  come 
to  first,  days  ago,  in  the  buggy  on  the  road  from  the 
steamer-landing:  all  sunburnt  and  covered  with  withered 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

grass,  shrubs  and  low  scrubby  trees  here  and  there, 
around  some  out-cropping  rocks. 

The  cow  was  lowing  again.  The  sound  came  from 
the  hills.  She  must  be  in  some  hollow.  I  walked 
along  the  green  of  the  creek  back  towards  the  hills 
and  turned  into  a  sort  of  trail  along  a  shallow,  little 
gulch  reaching  uphill  from  the  creek.  Everywhere 
were  such  gullies  between  the  sloping  hills,  filled  with 
low  brush.  And  everywhere  such  trails  led  around 
and  over  the  hills. 

As  I  got  higher  up  how  awfully  big  that  flat  valley 
looked !  And  more  level  than  the  waters  of  the  bay ! 
It  just  vanishing  without  ending  in  the  heat-haze  of 
the  far,  far  distance !  Right  under  the  sun,  faintly 
visible  were  highlands  like  pale  shadows,  fading  away 
to  nothing  with  the  valley.  I  could  follow  my  creek 
by  its  brush-growth  out  into  the  flat-land  ahead  and 
back  till  the  hills  hid  it. 

It  was  very  warm.  I  had  drunk  plenty  water  before 
I  left  the  creek,  but  I  was  faint  and  dizzy  with  hunger, 
dragging  myself  along,  keeping  near  cover.  At  last  I  saw 
three  cows  down  in  a  hollow.  I  was  on  a  low  summit, 
sloping  away  in  a  depression  filled  with  a  thicket  or  wood. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  wood  the  cows  were  standing  in 
a  corral,  or.  rather,  a  fenced  off  field.  There  were  more 
fences. 

When  I  came  to  the  thicket,  I  found  it  much  larger  than 
T  had  anticipated.  Good-sized  trees  were  standing  there, 
and  the  most  part  of  them  were  to  the  outside,  so  over- 
grown with  vines  hanging  down  to  the  ground  like  cur- 
tains, that  I  had  to  lay  me  down  on  my  belly  and  crawl  in 
under. 

Inside  it  was  quite  dark,  but  as  hot  and  dry  as  outside, 
and  the  black  ground  was  full  of  furrows  which  had  cer- 
tainly been  made  by  water.  And  the  mosquitoes  were 
very  bad.     I  wanted  to  turn  back.     Then  the  cow  lowed, 

219 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  that  led  me  on  again.  But  I  could  not  have  got 
through  the  wood,  it  was  so  dense  and  tangled  up  and 
rough,  only  that  there  was  an  old  trail  along  a  furrow, 
which  I  could  follow  to  the  other  side,  where  I  laid  me 
down  again  and  crept  out  under  through  the  creepers  and 
vines,  and  right  onto  a  dusty  road- 

I  crawled  right  back  behind  the  creepers  ?nd  peered 
^^^()Mgh  the  chinks  of  the  leaves. 

It  was  a  regular  wagon-road  with  an  open  two-wire 
fence  on  each  side.  I  had  not  noticed  the  wires  on  my 
side  in  crawHng  out.  I  was  outside  of  them  now.  The 
vines  hung  far  over  in  one  close  mass.  Opposite  me 
was  the  cow  field.  Above  the  cow  field  the  road  showed 
itself  winding  away  uphill.  And  as  I  looked,  lying  on 
my  hands  and  knees  behind  the  broad-leaved,  hanging 
vines,  there  came  down  that  road  a  cloud  of  dust  and 
the  noise  of  a  traveling  team.  Before  I  fairly  saw  the 
team  in  the  dust,  I  had  heard  noises.  Before  I  saw  the 
dust  and  heard  the  team,  I  had  noticed  the  cows  turn 
their  heads.  Then  I  recognized  the  horses,  one  white  and 
one  gray,  and  the  buggy. 

Two  men  rode  in  it.  One  was  a  black-bearded,  square- 
shouldered  man,  talking  in  a  high-pitched  voice,  and 
laughing  with  something  of  a  squeak.  The  other,  the  one 
driving,  was  he,  that  strange  man  that  had  taken  me  from 
our  wharf.  He  wore  his  duster  and  gloves,  but  no  gog- 
gles nor  veil.  His  face  was  turned  towards  me,  and  as  the 
wagon  went  by,  his  eyes,  passing  over  the  leafy  curtain 
of  creepers  that  hid  me,  looked  squarely  into  mine. 

The  dust  came  drifting  into  the  bush-  The  noise  of 
the  team  ceased,  came  again  curiously  loud.  The  squeaky 
laugh  sounded  twice,  distant. 

I  do  not  think  1  believed  that  he  had  seen  me.  I  could 
not  have  been  seen.  But  it  must  have  felt  fateful  that  the 
first  one  to  see  again  and  meet  should  be  that  man,  as  if 
it  were  no  use  to  try  to  save  myself  from  him. 

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CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAKUS 

I  think  it  was  in  my  mind  that  they  were  in  pursuit  of 
me.  tliat  the  Black  had  reported  my  escape  and  was  fol- 
lowing them,  or  coming  round  the  other  way,  tracking  me. 

Again,  not  so  at  all,  that  they  would  not  be  hunt- 
ing me  in  a  buggy  :  that  the  Black  would  not  tell  of  my  get- 
ting away  from  him  :  that  this  road  was  the  road  down 
to  the  steamboat-landing,  the  main  road  which,  these  days 
ago,  we  had  branched  ofif  from  where  it  split  in  two,  near 
the  watering  spring ;  that  the  strange  man  was  now  on  his 
way  to  that  steamboat-landing,  going  back  to  town  with 
his  team,  his  companion  with  the  high-pitched  voice  being 
only  just  an  acquaintance  of  his  from  somewhere,  going 
along,  who  had  nothing  to  do  with  my  case. 

I  lay  and  listened  at  the  silence,  till  everything  turned 
indistinct  and  I  seemed  not  to  know  any  more  where  I 
was,  when  the  terrors  shook  me  again.    Too  late  I 

A  dog  had  come  across  my  tracks  where  I  had  crawled 
out  into  the  road  and  back  and  had  spotted  me.  A  man 
had  come  after  the  dog  and  dragged  me  out  of  the  bush, 
tearing  the  last  shreds  of  my  shirt  off  my  body  and  drop- 
ping me  like  some  animal  he  had  got  hold  of,  he  did  not 
know  but  might  be  dangerous  to  handle.  I  lay  in  the  soft 
dust  of  the  road,  half  over,  half  sitting.  The  dog  was 
smelling  me  all  over. 

There  were  two  men-  One,  who  had  pulled  me  out  of 
the  bushes,  was  a  youngish  man  with  dark  hair  and  a  red 
face ;  the  other,  sitting  on  a  horse  and  holding  another  by 
the  bridle,  was  an  older  man  wdth  gray  hair  and  a  white 
beard.  They  were  both  dressed  like  laboring  men  in  over- 
alls and  flannel  shirts,  with  top  boots  and  wide  straw  hats. 
The  first  man  held  a  gun. 

He  ordered  back  the  dog  and  bent  down,  putting  out  a 
big,  red  hand  to  turn  me  over,  commencing  to  talk  to  me, 
asking  me  who  I  was,  where  I  came  from,  was  I  lost,  or 
had  I  rim  away?    Why  I  did  not  speak?     W^as  I  dumb? 

221 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

shouting  louder  at  every  question,  repeating  them  over  and 
over,  giving  me  something  of  a  shake  every  time. 

I  did  not  try  to  speak.  I  did  not  stir,  except  that  I 
turned  up  my  one  hand.  And  he  understood  that.  He 
stopped  his  shaking  and  let  go  of  me. 

"I  am  not  going  to  hurt  you,"  he  said,  speaking  not 
roughly,  *'no  one  is  going  to  hurt  you." 

Everything  then  grew  indistinct  again.  I  was  on  a 
horse.  Somebody  was  holding  me  in  front  of  him.  It 
was  the  old  man.  The  younger  man  had  gone  away  on 
the  other  horse  and  with  the  gun  and  the  dog.  We  were 
going  down  the  road,  with  the  thicket  still  the  boundary 
on  one  side.  Presently  we  were  no  longer  on  a  road ;  we 
had  gone  through  a  small  gate  the  old  man  had  opened 
and  shut  without  getting  off  the  horse-  Now  we  were 
again  on  a  road,  going  up  a  hill  rising  to  a  round  top.  On 
one  side  again  was  a  thicket  filling  a  little  gulch  with 
bushes,  brush  and  trees.  A  dog  barked.  We  had  come 
to  some  sheds  and  fences.  Right  by  the  side  of  the  deep 
shade  of  some  round-top  trees  which  were  standing  in  a 
group  together,  a  little  above  the  head  of  the  gulch,  on 
the  front  of  the  rounding  hill,  stood  a  little  house  of  bat- 
tened, rough,  redwood  boards  and  shingles. 

Five  Oaks  on  the  hill ! 

August. 

Going  to  Mr.  De  Lang's  this  morning  I  met  him  coming 
out  of  the  place  in  his  buggy.  I  told  him  all  I  had  to  say, 
receiving  for  an  answer  nothing  save  his  continual : 
''Never  mind !"  If  I  had  not  known  him  enough  by  this 
time,  I  might  have  thought  he  was  put  out  with  me  about 
something,  or  did  not  want  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say 
about  my  business  with  Mr.  Mauresse.  And  he  sat  in  his 
bi-igg}',  looking  at  the  horse's  tail  as  if  Avaiting  for  it  to 
move. 

I  inquired  after  Mrs.  De  Lang. 

''She  is  well,"  said  he.    "I  had  to  take  her  out  of  town 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Saturday  evening  across  the  bay  in  the  buggy  to  some 
friends  living  near  San  Leandro.  We  stayed  over  night. 
She  wanted  to  stay  longer,  so  I  left  her  there-  I  came 
home  last  night." 

Another  pause  ensued,  with  more  watching  of  the 
horse's  tail,  till  I  began  to  get  nervous  myself  about  its 
not  moving,  and  tried  to  break  the  spell  by  telling  him 
that  I  would  give  the  garden  a  wetting  down,  since  I  saw 
he  had  not  done  it  this  morning, 

''I  wish  you  would,"  he  rejoined,  "and  see  to  it  right 
along.  We  better  make  a  bargain  about  it.  What  will 
you  charge  to  see  to  it  right  along,  come  twice  a  week, 
give  the  place  a  wet  down,  and  trim  up?" 

I  told  him  his  wife  and  he  had  put  me  under  such  obli- 
gations, shown  me  such  kindness,  it  made  me  feel  mean 
to  think  that  I  in  return  should  charge  him  for  doing  such 
a  trifle.  Passing  as  I  should  have  to  this  way  almost 
daily,  I  could  with  very  little  trouble  and  loss  of  time  keep 
his  p]?-ce  in  trim,  at  least  till  the  plants  had  taken  well  to 
growing  and  the  grass  had  come  up.  But  he  kept  on  pro- 
nouncing his  ''never  mind,"  till  I  suggested  that  he  should 
pay  me  fifty  cents  a  month. 

"How  are  you  going  to  live  on  that?"  he  wanted  to 
know.  "That  would  be  only  about  twelve  cents  an  hour, 
for  a  day  of  eight  hours'  work,  less  than  one  dollar,  unless 
you  put  in  about  four  hours  more  for  coming  and  going. 
It  would  not  be  nine  cents  an  hour  that  you  would  earn. 
Take  a  fool's  advice  and  do  not  put  too  low  a  valuation 
on  your  work,  other  people  will  do  that  for  you  fast 
enough.  The  less  you  ask,  the  less  people  will  give,  and 
the  less  they  will  value  your  work  and  you  too.  Even 
supposing  you  do  not  get  some  work,  because  people  will 
not  pay  your  price,  one  job  at  one  dollar  an  hour  pays 
better  than  three  jobs  at  twenty-five  cents;  you  can  do 
it  better,  give  more  satisfaction,  secure  more  and  better 
v\^ork  through  it." 

223 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

It  took  him  so  long  to  get  through  his  speech,  one  might 
think  the  advice  worth  no  more  than  the  time  occupied  in 
hstening  to  it.  But  I  knew  it,  of  course,  to  be  not  only 
well  meant,  but  sound  too,  as  far  as  not  limited  by  indi- 
vidual, peculiar  circumstances.  How  did  Ullard  senten- 
tiously  express  it?  "We  can  take  and  follow  the  best 
advice  only  as  far  as  our  own  nature  permits.  It  is  no 
use  to  tell  the  bashful  man  to  be  bold,  the  hypochondriac 
to  be  sanguine"    For  me  the  advice  has  no  value. 

We  agreed  at  last  on  a  dollar  a  month.  He  paid  me 
for  one  month  in  advance  and  drove  off.  I  watered  the 
garden  and  went  to  hunt  up  more  work.  I  walked  out 
far  beyond  the  park  entrance,  where  on  the  slope  of  a  hill 
I  found  quite  a  colony  of  small  holdings  with  small  dwell- 
ings, each  with  a  little  flower  garden  in  front,  many  of 
them  not  half  trimmed  or  even  planted,  though  otherwise 
ready  to  be  improved.  The  first  house  I  went  into  and 
asked  for  work,  I  was  told  to  go  right  ahead  and  put  the 
front  yard  in  shape.  The  people  had  but  just  moved  in. 
They  had  bought  the  place  and  were  paying  for  it  on  the 
installment  plan,  as  it  is  called:  so  much  down  and  so 
much  every  month,  till  the  whole  is  paid.  Afterwards  I 
found  out  it  is  the  same  with  mostly  all  the  people  in 
that  district,  the  majority  of  them  being  what  might  be 
called  small  mechanics  and  clerks.  It  seems  a  very  good 
plan  for  people  of  no  means  but  a  few  hundred  dollars 
of  savings,  to  acquire  a  home.  Only  what  will  they  do 
if  work  or  health  fails,  and  they  cannot  keep  up  their 
payments  ? 

At  this  very  first  place  the  wife  was  worrying  over  this 
very  question,  although,  or  just  because,  her  husband 
took  it  very  easy.  She  did  not  want  him  to  engage  me 
to  do  the  work  at  all. 

''Why,  Mamie!"  he  exclaimed,  cheerfully,  "if  the  man 
does  the  job,  I  can  go  back  to  work.  And  I  could  not  do 
it  so  well." 

224 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

-You  can  do  it  Sunday,"  she  returned. 

-Why,  Mamie!"  he  cried  in  the  same  cheerful  tone, 
-Sunday  I  shall  have  to  do  lots  of  other  work  about  the 
house.  ^Did  you  not  say  you  wanted  the  cellar  whitened 
as  soon  as  possible  ?" 

"I  can  do  that  myself."  .  .     j  »„ 

"Why.  Mamie,  who  is  to  do  the  cooking  and  tend  to 

''^"If  you  go  on  like  that,"  she  called  out,  half  crying, 
"what  is  to  become  of  us?  How  are  we  to  meet  the  pay- 
ments?"   And  she  ran  into  the  house- 

I  wanted  to  go  away,  but  the  husband  would  not  let 
me  go  He  even  paid  me  in  advance  the  dollar  I  was  to 
get  for  my  work,  told  me  to  go  to  work,  and  went  to  his 
work  in  some  machine  shop.  ,      .  ,  •  v 

It  took  me  nearly  all  day  to  get  through  with  my  job. 
I  took  special  pains  with  it.  I  did  not  see  the  wife  the 
whole  time.  When  I  was  finished  I  rang  the  bell  to  call 
her  to  the  front  door  and  ask  her  to  look  at  what  I  had 
done  and  say  if  she  wanted  any  alterations  made  or  had 
any  other  thing  for  me  to  do. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "it  is  all  right,  I  suppose.    What  is  the 
use  of  talking?     Have  you  not  got  the  money?     That 

'^  "It  would  not  make  any  difference."  I  replied.  "I 
should  want  to  satisfy  you  all  the  same.  And  how  do 
vou  know  that  I  have  got  the  money?  You  must  have 
been  watching,"  I  added,  speaking  jokingly  to  give  our 

talk  a  pleasanter  turn.  .„     ,      .     ,  ,. 

"Does  he  not  always  act  like  that?"  she  broke  out, 
"throwing  away  money.  ^^  Yes.    Robbing  and  letting  others 

rob  his  wife  and  child!"  t    \   u    ^ 

"Well "  I  answered,  "if  that  is  the  way  you  feel,  here 
is  the  money,  take  it.  I  don't  want  any  money  from  you 
if  vou  feel  that  I  was  a  party  to  robbing  you. 

"No!"  she  cried,  retreating  behind  the  door  and  almost 

225 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

shutting  it.  '*Go  away.  If  the  garden  is  not  all  right  we 
can  make  it  so,  I  guess.  I  suppose  you  put  all  the  plants 
in  that  you  could.  If  we  find  any  left  over  we  can  put 
them  in  ourselves.  I  dare  say,  you  did  the  best  you 
could  with  such  a  place  in  such  a  very  short  time.  Go 
away  now." 

1  went  away,  but  the  spitefulness  of  the  young  woman's 
words  scarcely  made  me  more  satisfied  to  keep  the  dollar. 
What  a  silly  act  to  offer  her  that  dollar !  Suppose  she 
had  taken  it  ?  And  I  had  surely  earned  it.  I  had  worked 
hard  and  done  an  honest  job.  And  it  must  have  appeared 
to  be  nothing  but  a  foolish  bluff".  It  looks  like  that  even 
to  myself  now.  Yet  at  the  moment  I  wanted  her  to  take 
the  money,  and  very  little  more  of  her  talk  would  have 
made  me  cast  it  at  her  feet.  At  the  same  time  I  was  really 
thinking  of  Mr.  De  Lang  and  his  advice,  which,  in  this 
case,  I  judge,  meant  for  me  to  tell  her  that  she  was  get- 
ting five  dollars  worth  of  work  done  for  one  dollar. 

I  shall  never  be  anything  of  a  business  man,  that  is  cer- 
tain- I  lack  the  right  sense  of  money.  In  a  way  I  have 
no  value  for  money.  And  I  think  I  know  the  reason 
why,  too.  It  is  because  since  my  earliest  childhood  I 
have  had  to  work  and  work  without  ever  receiving  any 
pay  for  it,  any  money-pay,  nothing  save  my  living  and 
clothing.     Except  to  be  sure,  my  bootblack  days ! 

To  own  it  to  myself,  may  I  have  worked  ever  so  hard,  I 
nextr  feel  that  I  had  earned  money  I  receive,  nor 
its  being  my  due.  I  must  take  it  certainly,  must  insist 
on  getting  it  because  I  must  have  it  to  pay  out  for  what  I 
need  to  live  and  what  I  cannot  bear  to  owe  anybody  any- 
thing for.  But  I  do  not  take  it  because  I  regard  it  as  the 
equivalent  of  my  work.  Nor  do  I,  strictly  speaking,  work 
for  money.  I  do  my  work  for  the  work's  sake  ;  to  do  what 
T  have  to  do,  as  well  as  I  can.  And  further,  also,  I  must 
admit,  to  please  not  only  myself,  but  the  people  I  am 
working  for  ;  people  in  general,  too,  at  the  same  time ! 

226 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Again,  I  am  not  wasteful,  rather  saving,  I  think.  And 
all  this  comes  to  me  from  such  of  my  ancestors  as  were 
German.  At  least  Ullard  blamed  my  German  blood  for 
it,  w^hen  we  talked  about  such  things. 

I  wanted  to  ask  for  work  at  some  of  the  houses  ad- 
joining. But  it  w'as  rather  late  and  I  was  very  hungry. 
1  called  it  a  day  and  went  downtown  to  the  Italian  eating 
house  where  I  took  dinner  last  Saturday.  They  sell  meal 
tickets  there,  seven  for  a  dollar,  or  eight  for  a  dollar,  if 
three  dollars'  worth  are  taken.  I  bought  three  dollars' 
worth- 

1  had  no  visit  from  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Carpenter  to-night.  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  call  on  them  now.  Perhaps  they  are  a 
little  offended  at  my  refusal  to  go  with  them  yesterday. 
But  I  think  they  merely  are  tired  to-night.  I  think  they 
are  already  gone  to  bed.    Everything  is  quiet  in  the  house. 

All  day  to-day,  at  least  all  the  time  1  was  by  myself. 
Five  Oaks  was  not  out  of  my  head,  since  my  v/riting  yes- 
terday carried  me  there. 

When  I  think  of  it,  it  does  appear  odd  how  in  my 
recollections  of  that  time  after  the  first  few  days  a  sort 
of  haziness  seems  to  overlie  the  first  part  of  my  life  at 
Five  Oaks  ;  very  much  the  same,  I  believe,  as  the  first 
}'ears  of  our  childhood  appear  to  us  on  looking-  back, 
where  things  happen  or  cease  to  happen,  where  peoi)lc. 
animals,  all  things  are  now  there  and  now  no  more,  all 
without  beginning  or  ending",  connection  and  reas(>n. 

I  had  not  been,  I  reckon,  three  months  on  the  farm 
when  I  remember  to  have  at  times  felt  as  if  I  had 
always  lived  there,  always  had  had  ni}"  lessons  with 
(^Id  France,  always  gone  to  the  field  and  worked  with 
Young  Hants.  Both  men  at  such  times  would  be  to 
me  not  at  all  those  men  that  had  found  me  in  the  bush, 
but  different  beings  altogether,  which  I  had  difficulty 
in  finding  a  commencement  of  in  my  memory,  as  the 
dogs,  too.  the  other  animals,  the  trees  and  hills  difl'er- 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ent,  the  very  air  not  the  same,  everything,  all  my  new 
world  emerging  with  me  out  of  what  was  like  the  dis- 
tant dimness  beyond  our  life's  first  recollections.  Ex- 
cept that  underlying  all  this  there  was  in  me  always 
present  the  consciousness  of  my  fated  state :  that  that 
strange  man,  or  some  one  sent  by  him  was  looking  for 
me  and  sure  to  sometime  locate  me.  Feeling,  I  fancy, 
like  some  hunted  animal. 

The  first  few  days,  however,  at  Five  Oaks  stand 
apart  in  my  memory,  clear  and  distinct  as  if  they  be- 
longed to  the  days  gone  before  and  not  to  the  new  life 
beginning.  To  be  sure  some  special  happenings  mark 
those  days  apart  from  the  later  ones.  Or  rather,  being 
the  first  days  of  a  new  life,  nearly  all  their  happenings 
and  experiences  must  have  seemed  special  ones.  And 
the  violence  of  my  homesick  grief  and  despair,  together 
with  the  terrors  of  my  dreams,  both  of  which  now  for 
the  first  time  made  themselves  fully  felt,  must  certainl;,' 
have  given  them  a  peculiar  coloring. 

I  was  wide  awake  enough  the  moment  I  saw  the  little 
house  and  knew  that  I  was  at  some  place  where  people 
lived.  A  dog  came  up  to  us,  a  fine,  large  shepherd  dog 
that  was  very  glad  to  see  us,  and  friendly  disposed  to 
me,  if  in  a  somewhat  surprised  way.  I  saw  no  people. 
Beyond  the  house  was  a  corral  with  some  horses;  but 
no  gray  horse  and  no  white  horse!  Adjoining  this 
were  some  more  corrals.  Some  other  animals  were  mov- 
ing about,  pigs  and  ducks  and  chickens.  Some  open  sheds, 
I  noticed,  one  for  wood  and  another  for  what  looked 
like  a  little  blacksmith-shop  with  anvil  and  small 
bellows.  Near  it  stood  a  farm  wagon  and  a  cart.  But 
no  men  were  to  be  seen  anywhere  and  no  buggy. 

Past  the  house,  near  the  first  corral  was  a  trough. 
The  old  man  rode  up  to  it,  let  me  down  by  the  hand 
from  the  horse  to  the  ground  and  told  me  to  get  into 
the  trough  and  wash  myself.     He  had  spoken  to  me 

228 


CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

before  and  every  time  I  had  thought  I  soniehow  under- 
stood some  of  his  talk,  or  that  I  ought  to  understand  it ; 
that  I  knew  some  of  the  words  he  spoke.  And  yet  I 
could  not  follow  him. 

This  time  his  meaning  was  plain  enough.  Still  I 
waited  a  little  and  stood  holding  myself  up  by  the  top 
of  the  trough,  and  looking  him  very  hard  in  the  face, 
if  I  could  not  make  him  comprehend  how  very  hungry 
I  was  and  how  much  I  wished  he  would  give  me  a  little 
something  to  eat,  if  he  had  it.  But  I  saw  it  was  no 
use.  I  must  clean  myself  first.  And  I  took  oil  my 
boots  and  my  overalls  and  climbed  into  the  trough.  It 
was  dug  out  of  a  log,  about  half  the  length,  the 
ends  being  left  solid,  a  little  flattened  on  top  to  put 
things  on.  A  tin  wash-basin  was  lying  there  upside 
down  and  a  tin  mug  with  a  piece  of  white  soap,  a 
yellow  horn  comb  drawn  quite  out  of  shape  by  the 
sun,  and  a  piece  of  thick  glass  wdiich  was  the  half  of  an 
old,  small,  half  blind  mirror  fastened  alongside  a  roller- 
towel  to  the  side  of  the  house,  close  by. 

The  trough  looked  like  a  tray  for  washing.  A  division- 
board  was  in  it,  too,  which  had  been  taken  out.  Other, 
similar  troughs  were  in  the  corrals,  and  yet  another  larger 
trough  stood  by  itself  farther  up  the  hill.  A  gutter  or 
small  flume  fed  water  to  all  these  troughs  from  a  heap  of 
rocks,  above  where  the  trees  stood,  and  where  there  was 
a  live  spring.  And  at  each  trough  was  a  spout  with  a 
sort  of  gate  to  shut  off  the  water  and  turn  it  on,  the  flume 
leading  to  other  places  besides  and  to  behind  the  house, 
where  there  was  a  garden. 

The  trough  was  half  full  of  water,  and  it  was  quite 
warm  from  the  sun.  When  I  laid  me  down  in  it,  it  felt 
wonderfully  good-  It  seemed  to  ease  me  all  through  and 
make  me  wish  I  could  just  lie  still  and  go  to  sleep.  But 
it  was  not  long  before  the  old  man  came  back  from  put- 
ting his  horse  in  the  corral,  and  he  turned  the  gutter-gate 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  let  the  cold  water  rush  on  me,  making  me  nearly  lose 
my  breath.  Then  he  handed  me  the  soap  and  I  fell  to 
soaping  and  washing  myself  while  he  walked  away  into 
the  house. 

The  water  was  very  clear.  I  drank  from  the  spout  a 
good  deal  for  my  hunger.  I  also  cleaned  out  the  trough 
while  I  was  in  it.  In  the  corners  was  a  good  deal  of  soap 
scinn,  which  I  scraped  off  with  the  piece  of  glass.  A  hole 
and  plug,  just  like  those  in  a  boat,  were  at  the  lower 
end  in  the  bottom  of  the  trough  over  a  wooden  drain  going 
toward  the  rear.  I  drew  the  plug  and  let  all  the  scum 
run  out  with  the  dirty  water  and  rinsed  it  all  out  well. 
After  that  I  came  to  think  that  I  had  had  no  business  to 
do  this  unbidden  and  waste  so  much  fresh  water.  And  I 
was  glad  the  trough  was  half  full  of  water  again  by  the 
time  the  old  man  came  back.  He  did  not  say  anything. 
He  did  not  seem  to  notice  what  I  had  done. 

Tie  brought  me  half  of  a  clean-washed  flour  sack  for  a 
towel,  but  I  already  was  dry  sitting  in  the  sun  on  the 
wash  tray.  He  also  had  a  shirt  for  me,  not  of  flannel,  but 
some  other  soft,  white  stuff  looking  as  though  it  had  been 
very  much  worn  a  very  long  time  ago,  patched  and  mended 
and  patched  again  and  washed  a  good  many  times.  It  was 
not  of  a  man's  size,  yet  very  much  too  large  for  me,  going 
half  way  to  my  ankles-  He  had  a  piece  of  hay  rope,  which 
he  tied  the  garment  with  round  my  waist,  bringing  the 
shirt  tails  up  to  the  knees.  Then  he  turned  up  the  sleeves, 
tied  the  tape  ends  of  the  neck  band  below  my  chin,  and 
showed  great  satisfaction  in  seeing  me  thus  rigged  out. 

He  went  back  into  the  house  and  returned  with  a  tin 
dish  with  some  fried  oatmeal  mush  and  some  pieces  of 
cornbread,  a  large  ship  biscuit,  what  sailors  call  hard 
tack,  a  slice  of  raw  bacon  and  a  tin  cup  full  of  milk. 

T  could  hardly  keep  my  hands  back  till  he  held  the 
things  out  to  me.  And  when  he  had  given  them  to  me,  he 
would  not  let  me  eat  undisturbed.     Every  little  while  he 

230 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

took  the  dish  away  from  me  and  I  had  to  stop  eating  some 
seconds  before  I  got  it  back.  And  the  milk  I  must  not 
drink,  but  eat  with  a  Httle  spoon.  But  I  had  drunk  water 
he  fore. 

The  house  had  at  one  end,  nearest  the  wash  tray,  an 
open  space.  By  the  looks  of  it  the  house  was  to  have  had 
a  room  there,  but  it  had  not  been  finished. 

The  roof  went  over  the  space  and  the  floor,  the  back 
and  front  walls  extended  as  far,  only  the  outside  end 
was  open.  A  great  many  things  stood  there  put  out  of 
the  way  and  in  shelter.  Against  the  rear  wall  was  stand- 
ing a  rough  carpenter's  bench.  On  it  the  old  man  had 
spread  a  doubled-up  cotton  quilt.  He  carried  me  over 
there  and  laid  me  down  on  the  quilt,  stuck  a  piece  of  wood 
under  one  end  of  it  for  a  pillow,  and  turned  the  other  end 
over  my  feet  and  legs.  I  had  been  cleaned  and  fed  and 
now  I  was  to  sleep- 

I  was  willing  enough  that  the  old  man  should  have  his 
way,  because  he  certainly  was  boss  as  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned, and  he  had  been  good  to  me  and  I  expected  to  get 
something  more  to  eat  from  him,  by  and  by.  And  I  was 
sleepy,  too,  but  I  was  in  a  way  unwilling  to  go  to  sleep 
and  uneasy,  as  if  something  was  about  to  happen,  which 
I  must  keep  awake  to  be  ready  to  encounter.  And  while 
dropping  off,  overcome  by  drowsiness,  I  know,  I  yet 
strove  against  it  and  to  the  last  tried  to  fix  my  mind  on 
where  I  was  and  that  I  was  safe,  while  already  the  drug 
was  beginning  its  work  again,  and  already  its  furies  were 

upon  me. 

It  commenced  the  very  same  way  as  the  first  time.  I 
was  seized  with  a  horrible  dizziness,  as  though  I  was  being 
flung  into  empty  space.  Things  like  sparks  were  striking 
my  eyes,  fiery  shapes  came  jutting  towards  me,  and  back 
and  forward  again,  nearer  and  nearer,  hideous  shapes, 
close  upon  me,  winding  themselves  round  my  throat,  chok- 
ing me,  strangling  me,  to  force  me  to  open  mv  mouth  to 

231 


CHKOXICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

let  them  crawl  into  my  head,  till  all  was  one  sheet  of 
liame. 

And  now,  curiously,  I  knew  something  was  going  to 
show  itself  on  the  sheet  of  flame,  something  to  add  to  the 
terror,  and  though  in  deadly  dread  of  it,  I  was  anxious 
to  know  what,  when  the  fiery  sheet  was  torn  apart,  and 
I  saw  the  canyon  I  had  come  down.  I  did  not  see  myself, 
but  I  was  there.  It  was  at  the  point  where  the  canyon 
had  narrowed  to  a  rocky  gorge,  the  walls  overhanging,  a 
ledge  extending  across  from  side  to  side  like  a  dam. 
Somewhere  opposite  I  was  standing,  not  down  below  in 
the  bed  of  the  creek,  but  up  higher,  facing  the  dam,  look- 
ing at  the  gorge.  I  don't  know  that  I  had  looked  at  it 
that  way  at  all,  but  I  must,  or  how  else  could  I  have  been 
able  to  see  it  in  my  dream  as  I  did.  And  so  plain  and 
clear,  every  cleft  and  crack  and  seam  distinct,  every  block 
and  crag,  even  the  peaks  above  the  canyon  walls,  which 
I  had  not  been  able  to  see  from  the  bottom  of  the  gorge 
at  all. 

Something  was  moving.  A  round,  black  thing  was 
coming  up  over  the  dam,  making  my  blood  feel  like  ice. 
It  was  the  head  of  the  Black ! 

He  was  looking  round.  His  eyes  shone  and  his  large, 
yellow  teeth.  The  scars  on  his  cheek  stood  out  as  gleam- 
ing streaks.  He  did  not  see  me  yet  and  in  a  sort  of  pri- 
mary consciousness  I  was  telling  myself  in  my  sleep  that 
he  could  not  see  me,  that  I  was  not  there  at  all.  He 
hauled  himself  along  by  the  edge  of  the  dam  the  way  I 
had  done.  A  Manzanita  bush  was  growing  right  out  of 
the  rocks  on  the  ledge.  He  stopped  at  it,  looking,  bending 
down  to  something  on  the  lowest  twig,  picking  it  off, 
holding  it  between  his  fingers  so  that  I  could  see  it. 

It  was  a  tatter  of  my  shirt,  a  little  shred  no  bigger  than 
a  joint  of  my  little  finger,  torn  out  and  held  fast  by  the 
little  shrub.  And  I  knew  not  that  such  a  thing  had  hap- 
pened, nor  that  I  remembered  it,  nor  that  ever  before  this 

232 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

time  1  thought  that  such  a  thing  might  have  occurred. 
Still  perhaps  it  had- 

He  climbed  over  the  dam  and  down  like  I  had  done. 
He  was  turning  to  me,  when  everything  vanished  and  I 
came  out  of  my  senselessness,  the  old  man  .^landing  by 
my  sleeping  place,  calling  and  shaking  me,  speaking  to  me. 

And  now  I  knew,  I  understood:  it  was  Spanish  he 
was  speaking  to  me,  had  been  speaking  to  me  before.  He 
spoke  it  with  a  false  accent  so  that  it  did  not  sound  like 
Spanish.  But  since  I  now  knew  it  was  Spanish,  I  could 
make  him  out  very  well.  He  was  telling  me  he  had  some- 
thing more  for  me  to  eat,  but  he  was  afraid  I  had  al- 
ready eaten  too  much.  I  had  had  a  fit  and  should  have 
fallen  off  the  bench  if  he  had  not  come  to  hold  me.  He 
had  an  enameled  soup  plate  full  of  fresh-made  oatmeal 
mush  with  sugar  and  milk  and  after  some  hesitation  gave 
it  to  me  on  condition  that  I  should  eat  it  very  slowly,  and 
he  stood  by  to  see  me  do  it. 

I  did  not  speak  at  all,  nor  show  that  I  understood  more 
than  what  I  might  guess.  I  saw  the  old  man  go  to  work 
washing  some  clothes  at  the  wash  tray.  I  pretended  to  be 
asleep.  V'ery  soon  I  did  sleep.  When  I  awoke  I  judged 
by  the  sun  that  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  My  overalls, 
dripping  wet,  were  hanging  on  a  wash  line  with  some  more 
clothes.  My  boots  stood  at  my  sleeping  place.  I  put 
them  on  and  ventured  forth. 

When  I  cautiously  looked  in  at  the  open  door  of  the 
little  house,  I  saw  the  old  man  busy  at  the  cook  stove, 
cooking,  and  I  noticed  that  a  box  for  firewood  standing 
near  the  stove  was  all  but  empty.  So  I  went  to  where 
a  lot  of  split-up  firewood  was  lying  round  a  chopping 
block,  and  picked  up  an  armful  and  carried  it  to  the  door. 
I  was  not  sure  about  being  permitted  to  go  in,  but  the  old 
man,  hearing  my  step,  turned  his  head,  and,  seeing  me, 
told  me  to  put  the  wood  in  the  box.  I  brought  another 
armful  and  yet  another  to  fill  the  box.    And  then,  looking 

233 


CHRONICLES  OF  MJXUEL  ALANUS 

around,  I  saw  that  the  water  pail  on  a  low  shelf  in  the 
corner  had  but  little  water  left  in  it.  I  took  it,  cleaned  it, 
and  brought  it  back  full  from  the  spout.  After  that  1 
thought  I  would  split  some  more  wood  with  the  nice,  new, 
sharp  hatchet  on  the  block.  But  I  did  not  know  but  what 
J  might  be  overdoing  the  thing,  and  rather  went  back  to 
the  door,  to  be  there  if  I  should  be  wanted  for  something, 
or  anyhow  to  be  ready  at  the  place  when  the  eating  was 
to  be  done. 

Very  nice  it  looked  inside  of  the  little  house.  It  was 
all  one  room,  with  a  close-board  ceiling;  and  all  whitened. 
It  was  quite  wide,  but  more  shallow  from  front  to  rear. 
The  door  was  in  the  middle  of  the  front,  with  a  window 
each  side  of  the  door  and  with  two  windows  in  the  rear 
wall,  opposite  the  front  windows.  At  the  left  hand  end, 
across  from  front  to  rear,  were  two  sleeping  bunks,  end 
to  end,  as  aboard  ship,  with  a  centre  partition  and  w^ith 
calico  curtains.  At  the  right  hand  end  stood  the  cooking 
stove  in  a  recess  formed  by  a  pan  closet  at  one  corner  and 
a  store  room  at  the  other.  Some  shelves  were  there  with 
kitchenware,  and  a  wardrobe  and  some  rawhide-bottom 
chairs.  Two  small  chests  of  drawers  were  placed  back  to 
back  at  the  centre  division  of  the  bunks.  At  the  windows 
were  hung  little  calico  curtains  like  to  the  bunks,  and 
under  the  one  rear  window  farthest  from  the  stove  stood  a 
table  covered  with  white  marbled  oilcloth.  Everything 
looked  clean  and  orderly,  and,  what  most  made  it  look 
pretty  and  bright,  was  that  outside  of  all  the  clean-polished 
windows  were  shelves,  immediately  below  the  window 
sills,  with  wooden  earth-boxes,  in  which  grew  flowers  and 
green  plants- 

The  old  man  was  overhauling  a  box  filled  with  books, 
\\hich  he  had  pulled  out  from  under  one  of  the  bunks. 
He  called  me  in  when  I  again  appeared  at  the  door.  He 
held  a  slate  and  an  open  book  in  his  hand,  pointing  at 
something  on  the  leaves,  uttering  some  sounds.     I  made 

234 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

as  stupid  a  face  as  I  could.  He  became  more  insisting. 
I  wished  for  something  to  boil  over  so  as  to  make  him 
turn  to  his  cooking.  But  presently  I  forgot  everything  for 
a  noise  I  heard  outside. 

I  saw  through  the  window  it  was  the  old  man's  com- 
panion of  the  morning,  the  younger  man,  come  home  with 
his  horse  and  dog  and  gun  and  a  string  of  dead  birds. 
No  one  was  with  him.  But  I  had  started  to  break  away 
for  the  open  door  at  the  first  sound.  I  was  trembling  all 
over.  I  was  glad  now  though  to  see  him.  Hants  the  old 
man  called  him.  And  he  called  the  old  man  France.  He 
laughed  at  my  rig  when  he  came  to  look  at  me,  after  he 
had  unsaddled  his  horse. 

He  motioned  for  me  to  take  his  horse  to  the  corral, 
pointing  to  it-  Old  France  pointed  to  it,  too,  and  repeated 
the  word  horse,  in  Spanish,  and  the  dog  went  with  me  as 
if  to  show  me  the  way,  or  perhaps  to  keep  an  eye  on  me, 
not  approving  altogether  of  my  appearance.  He  was  not 
as  easy  of  approach  as  the  shepherd  dog,  but  not  bad  na- 
tured,  only  reserved.  The  four  horses  in  the  corral  all 
came  to  take  a  look  at  me,  and  they  all  let  me  pet  them  a 
little,  holding  down  their  necks  to  let  me  pat  them.  One 
was  a  pony. 

Coming  back  from  the  corral  I  found  Hants  picking 
and  cleaning  the  birds,  and  as  I  always  had  to  clean  and 
pick  the  birds  for  Nick  and  Nello  when  they  had  chickens 
or  ducks  or  sometimes  wild  fowls  for  their  meals,  I  started 
in  now  to  help  him  do  that.  He  watched  me  silently  till 
he  had  satisfied  himself  that  T  knew  what  I  was  doing 
and  did  this  work  perhaps  quicker  and  neater  than  he, 
when  he  took  the  few  birds  he  had  cleaned  into  the  house, 
leaving  me  to  finish  the  rest. 

Before  I  was  quite  through  with  the  birds,  three  cows 
suddenly  appeared  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence  leading 
to  another  corral,  halting,  gazing,  staring  at  me  as  if 
dumbfounded  with  astonishment  at  my  presence.     They 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

were  the  cows  I  had  seen  in  the  morning  in  the  hollow 
near  the  thicket,  and  they  had  come  up  from  there. 

And  now  there  was  a  great  deal  of  work  to  be  done. 
Hants  was  busy  everywhere.  The  cows  had  to  be  milked 
and  fed.  The  horses  also  had  to  be  fed,  and  the  chickens 
and  other  fowl  and  the  pigs.  Two  or  three  dozen  pigs 
were  coming  from  somewhere  below  by  a  separate, 
fenced-off  way  to  a  separate  corral  and  were  clamoring 
at  the  corral-gate.  When  Hants  had  put  their  food  in 
the  trough  and  opened  the  gate  for  them,  they  came  in 
in  such  a  rush,  I  thought  I  had  never  heard  the  like. 

Hants  was  not  a  bit  backward  in  putting  me  to  work 
to  help  him,  and  I  kept  pretty  close  at  his  heels  all  the 
time,  that  being  certainly  the  safest  place  for  me  at  pres- 
ent in  this  new,  unknown  world  I  had  come  iiito.  And  I 
liked  being  so  employed.  The  more  jobs  Hants  gave  me, 
the  better  I  liked  it 

The  birds  all  cleaned  and  dressed  I  had  brought  to 
France.  I  went  back  to  Hants  where  he  was  milking  one 
of  the  cows,  and  he  showed  me  where  to  get  some  feed 
and  give  it  to  the  chickens,  to  throw  it  round,  scattering 
it  in  their  separate  yard  and  to  close  the  gate.  Some  of 
them  had  already  gone  to  roost  in  the  hen  house  adjoin- 
ing their  yard.  They  all  came  out  again  and  z  couple  of 
roosters  made  a  great  fuss  over  their  hens  feeding ;  some 
were  outside  the  yard  and  would  not  go  in,  and  I  had  to 
chase  them  in  before  I  could  close  the  gate.  Afterwards 
when  they  had  all  gone  to  roost  I  should  have  to  go  and 
shut  the  door  of  the  hen  house,  said  Hants. 

He  spoke  to  me  all  the  time  now.  He  saw  that  I  under- 
stood him,  though  I  did  not  speak  myself.  Could  I  milk  ? 
he  asked.  It  was  so  very  long  since  I  had  done  any  milk- 
ing and  I  had  been  so  very  little  then,  if  I  had  not  that 
morning  dreamed  and  thought  about  Antonio's  cow,  I 
should  not  have  known  that  I  ever  knew  anything  about 
milking.     So  I  did  not  stir.     Then  he  bade  me  try,  and 

236 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

as  soon  as  I  went  to  sitting  on  my  feet  under  the  second 
cow  with  a  tin  pail  between  my  knees  and  commenced,  I 
found  I  could  milk  as  well  as  anybody.  But  first  I  had 
had  to  wash  my  hands  and  also  the  cow's  udder,  as 
Hants  had  done.  The  third  cow  had  gone  dry,  but  she 
would  soon  calve. 

The  milk  had  to  be  strained ;  some  little  was  put  aside 
for  house  use ;  the  rest  was  put  in  a  machine  which  I  had 
to  turn,  when  the  cream  ran  out  of  a  spout  into  a  can 
and  the  skim  milk  out  of  another  spout  into  another  can. 
This  I  had  to  carry  off  and  pour  into  the  feeding  trough 
for  the  little,  young  pigs,  while  Hants  turned  to  and 
washed  all  the  tin  milk  things  in  boiling  water.  After 
that  the  horses  and  cows  had  to  be  given  hay.  The  horses 
I  had  to  water-  The  cows  had  a  small  watering  trough 
in  their  corral.  They  got  some  salt  on  a  board  to  lick, 
which  seemed  a  very  strange  thing  to  me. 

Now  Hants  washed  himself  again  at  the  wash  tray, 
soaping  his  neck  and  face  and  arms,  wetting  all  the  roller 
towel  in  drying  himself,  combing  his  hair  with  the  old, 
bent,  horn  comb  before  the  piece  of  blind  mirror,  where 
he  could  hardly  see  anything  more.  And  I  washed  my- 
self the  same  way  and  followed  him,  quite  damp,  to  the 
door,  where  I  stopped  short  outside. 

It  was  turning  dark.  The  stars  were  beginning  to  twin- 
kle. The  soft  little  breeze  that  had  been  blowing  all  day 
had  died  out  with  sundown.  The  animals  had  quieted 
down  with  their  feeding.    Night  was  coming  on. 

The  little  house  room  looked  so  homelike;  I  can  feel 
it  at  this  moment  as  I  felt  it  then.  A  lighted  lamp  with 
whitish  globe  and  red  and  green  shade  stood  on  the  table, 
which  was  set  with  the  steaming  dishes  for  the  supper. 
From  the  stove  came  the  hissing  and  puffing  of  the  tea 
kettle.  France  was  taking  the  last  supper  dish  out  of  the 
stove  oven.  Hants  was  already  sitting  at  the  table,  knife 
and  fork  in  hand,  saying  something  like  ''having  thought 

237 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tliere  would  be  no  supper  at  all  that  night,"  jokingly,  and 
then  turning  round  and  seeing  that  I  had  not  followed 
him  into  the  house,  called  me,  motioning,  telling  me  to 
come  in,  drawing  a  chair  for  me  up  to  the  table,  even 
fetching  a  coat  out  of  his  bunk,  a  sort  of  sailor's  monkey 
jacket,  to  put  rolled  up  and  folded  on  my  chair  for  me  to 
sit  on,  to  have  a  better  reach  of  the  table  top,  and  then 
helping  me  after  himself,  not  once  but  again  and  yet  more, 
most  liberally,  which  things  altogether  made  me  feel 
ashamed  or  strange,  not  being  used  to  such  attentions.  I 
wanted  very  much  to  thank  him,  but  could  not  get  to  it, 
not  just  being  able  to  make  up  my  mind,  should  I  speak 
or  not,  as  I  was  not  sure  of  the  consequences.  Though 
principally  I  could  not  speak  because  of  his  kindness.  So 
I  only  bobbed  my  head. 

"That  is  all  right,"  he  said  ;  "you  are  welcome-  Eat 
away.  I  expect  you  must  be  hungry."  And  after  a  short 
pause  he  added:  "You  earned  it." 

I  was  hungry.  More  than  I  had  thought  and  known. 
And  the  things  tasted  so  good.  France  had  cut  up  the 
birds  and  stewed  them  with  a  thin  gravy  and  tMiions  and 
other  things.  Nick  never  could  make  such  a  stew,  nor 
Nello.  With  the  stew  we  had  cornmeal  mush.  That 
was  well  known  to  me.  I  had  eaten  that  my  whole  life 
long:  as  far  as  I  could  think  back.  But  it  never  had  tasted 
so  good  as  this  time  with  this  stew.  Besides,  we  had 
balced  potatoes  and  bread  and  sweet  butter  and  a  pudding. 
And  I  was  g'ven  a  cup  of  fresh  milk  with  a  little  water, 
while  the  two  men  drank  tea  with  milk. 

And  did  not  Hants  seem  to  enjoy  seeing  nie  make  a 
hearty  meal.  He  watched  me  all  the  time,  half  smiling, 
encouraging  me  to  eat  more,  telling  me  I  had  not  eaten 
anything  as  yet-  He  was  a  great  eater  himself,  and  T 
could  not  help  noticing  that,  liberal  as  he  was,  he  always 
helped  liimself  first  and  to  the  best  pieces. 

France.  T  remember,  had  a  good  deal  to  sav.     And  he 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

showed  nie  liovv  to  sit  at  table,  how  to  hold  my  arms,  how 
to  properly  use  my  knife  and  fork.  I  was  very  careful 
and  ate  very  slowly.  Sometimes  I  thought  all  these  in- 
structions were  intended  less  for  me  than  for  Hants,  who 
was  very  careless  of  his  eating.  I  reckoned  he  took  it 
that  way  himself.     He  was  quietly  chuckling  to  himself. 

After  the  meal  came  the  dishwashing,  and  I  could  see 
it  took  Hants  bv  surprise  that  I  was  so  ready  to  go  right 
I  -  A,>rk  at  tlu.t  and  knew  all  about  it.  I  could  almost 
fancy  I  understood  him  telling  France  that  I  must  have 
been  accustomed  to  such  housework ;  although  they  spoke 
a  language  I  did  not  know.  France  seemed  not  to  have 
observed  anything  remarkable. 

But,  after  all,  a  good  deal  relative  to  this  work  was  un- 
familiar to  me,  and  for  quite  a  time  it  remained  very 
strange  that  I  could  not  throw  things  overboard  as  I  had 
been  used  to  doing  on  the  wharf.  There  it  had  been  no 
trick  at  all  to  keep  things  clean  and  in  good  order.  Every- 
thing not  wanted,  all  dirt,  all  waste  and  rubbish,  simply 
was  hove  overboard.  Here  everything  had  to  be  taken 
care  of.  This  day  I  had  already  got  an  inkling  of  it. 
Nothing  went  to  waste,  not  even  potato  peelings.  The 
most  of  the  things  left  over  from  the  meals,  not  good  to 
be  served  up  again,  went  to  the  pigs  and  were  kept  out- 
side the  house  in  close  covered  buckets  of  galvanized  iron, 
which  were  at  feeding  time  carried  to  their  corral  and 
emptied  into  their  trough-  The  dogs  were  fed  separately. 
I  had  to  do  that. 

It  felt  strange,  too,  that  the  fresh  water  was  used  so 
lavishly ;  wasteful,  it  seemed.  And  the  wood.  As  though 
it  cost  no  trouble  and  hard  work  to  get  firewood. 

Hants  took  no  part  in  the  cleaning  up  after  supper.  He 
sat  in  front  of  his  bunk,  looking  on,  smoking  his  pipe,  and 
occasionallv  disputing,  or  what  sounded  like  disputing, 
with  the  old  man,  who  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say  now. 
I  felt  sure  they  were  speaking  about  me.     France  was 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

also  talking  about  the  books  in  the  box  I  had  seen  before, 
1  could  guess,  because  he  pulled  that  box  from  under  his 
bunk,  where  he  had  pushed  it  when  Hants  came  home. 
More  I  could  not  make  out.  Nor  did  I  pay  much  atten- 
tion. I  seemed  dull  now  in  my  head,  since  I  was  no  more 
hungry.  And  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  thinking.  Only 
that  there  appeared  to  be  something  in  me  trying  to  make 
me  feel  bad,  miserable  in  my  mind. 

Shortly,  after  some  speech,  as  though  to  close  some  ar- 
gument, Hants  got  up,  lit  a  lantern,  and  took  me  to  my 
sleeping  place,  which  he  fixed  up  a  little  more  with  a 
rolled-up  small  quilt  for  my  head-rest  and  a  clean,  unused 
blanket  to  cover  me.  He  lingered  quite  a  bit,  wanting  to 
talk  to  me,  I  thought,  or  waiting  for  me  to  speak.  Then 
he  left  me,  taking  my  overalls  from  the  line  and  into  the 
house  "to  hang  behind  the  stove  to  dry,"  he  gave  out. 

I  lay  quite  still  The  night  was  mild  and  quiet.  After 
a  while  I  put  back  the  blanket.  It  was  too  warm.  I  could 
not  sleep.  I  saw  the  shine  of  the  light  square  of  one  of 
the  windows  on  the  trunk  of  one  of  the  trees  and  on  the 
ground.  I  heard  incessantly  the  murmuring  of  the  voices 
of  the  two  men  talking  in  the  house.  It  made  me  feel 
lonely.  I  could  not  tell  what  it  was,  but  something  was 
making  me  feel  unhappy.  And  a  pain  was  in  my  breast. 
I  dozed.  When  I  was  awake  again  there  was  no  more 
light  in  the  house  and  no  more  murmuring.  And  now  it 
made  me  feel  twice  as  lonely  that  there  was  not.  And 
that  pain  in  my  breast  was  like  a  cramp.  I  could  not  lie 
still.     I  got  up. 

As  soon  as  I  moved,  the  dogs  came  to  me.  After 
smelling  my  legs  they  curled  themselves  up  again  near  me. 

How  awful  still  it  was.  Dead  still  and  dark.  Not  a 
sound  to  be  heard ;  not  a  light  to  be  seen  on  aH  the  black 
earth  all  round!  But  the  stars  shaking  and  trembling 
and  shooting  long,  stinging  rays  into  my  eyes ! 

I  v/as  sitting  on  the  step  of  the  house  door.     A  little 

240 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

change  had  come  in  the  light  of  the  stars,  a  brightening 
in  one  place,  low  down  over  the  hills.  Only  a  misshapen 
half  moon,  but,  oh!  the  moon  of  my  old  wharf. 

Oh,  my  old  wharf !    My  old  wharf ! 

I  felt  such  anguish  in  my  breast,  I  did  not  know  what  to 
do.  It  was  like  being  bound  with  iron.  Sobs  came,  I 
could  not  hold  them  down.  I  was  afraid  they  would  waken 
the  men  in  the  house,  and  so  I  got  up  and  came  away  and 
lay  on  the  ground  by  the  corrals,  clutching  the  hard  earth 
with  my  outstretched  hands,  pressing  my  heart  to  it  to 
ease  my  pain. 

The  shepherd  dog  came  and  stood  with  his  head  over 
me  and  sat  down  in  pity  to  touch  me,  upright  with  his 
head  held  back,  to  show  me  how  to  do  and  keep  a  stout 
heart.  He  did  not  know,  no  one  knew,  no  one  could  think 
how  I  loved  all  I  had  been  taken  away  from. 

The  night  sped  on.  The  moon  hung  high  above  the 
treetops.  A  cool  air  came,  without  stirring  the  leaves. 
The  roosters  crowed.  It  was  not  quite  so  dark.  The 
horses  moved.  The  roosters  crowed  again.  A  paleness 
had  come  into  the  sky-  A  field  bird  gave  a  call.  The  day 
broke. 

I  went  to  wash  my  face.  I  wondered  could  I  let  the 
chickens  out.  They  wanted  badly  to  get  out,  I  fancied, 
but  I  did  not  know  if  I  should  be  doing  right  to  open  their 
door.  It  had  become  quite  light.  Nobody  stirred  in  the 
house.  The  animals  were  all  awake  and  moving.  The 
pigs  were  grunting  impatiently.  The  horses  and  cows 
were  feeding.  One  cow  I  had  noticed  the  night  before  to 
be  most  gentle.  She  was  the  one  I  had  milked.  She  was 
white  with  large,  black  continents  and  islands  of  all  kinds 
of  shapes  all  over  her.  And  she  looked  at  me  as  if  she 
wondered  why  I  did  not  milk  her.  So  I  thought  I  would 
milk  her  and  fetched  the  tin  pails  from  their  rack  near 
the  house  door,  without  making  any  noise,  and  milked 
both  her  and  the  other  cow.     But  when  I  was  carrying 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  pails  with  the  milk  to  the  little  box  of  a  house  where 
tlie  milk  machine  was  standing,  I  saw  the  three  cows 
marchiag  off.  The  gate  of  their  corral  to  the  outside  was 
open,  as  it  had  been  all  night,  and  they  were  going  off  in 
their  field  as  they  had  come  the  last  night,  by  themselves. 
I  did  not  know  but  that  I  had  done  a  very  foolish  thing, 
not  to  shut  that  gate-  And  I  put  down  the  milk  and  ran 
and  climbed  the  yard  fence  to  intercept  the  cows  and  turn 
them  back,  when  at  that  moment  Hants  stepped  out  of  the 
house  door  and  taking  in  the  whole  situation  at  a  glance, 
called  me  back,  saying  something  to  the  effect  "that  the 
cows  knew  what  they  were  doing,  that  now  after  being 
milked,  they  should  go  down  to  their  pasture  at  the  bot- 
tom lands."  Also  "that  as  a  rule  I  must  never  run  after 
cattle  or  I  might  get  hooked  and  gored ;  that  I  must  take  a 
horse  to  go  after  them,  or  send  the  shepherd  dog." 

After  that  he  said,  in  a  somewhat  curious  way,  "I 
seemed  to  have  been  crowding  things  a  little,"  and  looking 
strangely  at  me,  pointed  at  a  willow  switch  lying  at  my 
feet  and  motioned  for  me  to  bring  it  to  him.  He  did  not 
appear  angry,  yet  it  almost  looked  as  if  I  was  going  to  be 
punished  for  doing  things  unbidden.  It  did  not  look  alto- 
gether reasonable,  and  I  did  not  really  believe  it.  But 
if  he  was,  what  could  I  do?  So  I  picked  up  the  stick 
and  handed  it  to  him,  when  with  a  great  laugh  he  snapped 
it  in  two  and  threw  it  away,  crying  "he  knew  I  was  not 
afraid  of  him."  France  had  wanted  to  make  him  believe 
I  was  afraid  of  him  and  had  told  him  how  I  bad  jumped 
and  tried  to  run  away  when  he  came  home  the  evening 
before.  But  he  knew  damned  well  I  was  not  afraid  of 
him.  For  what  should  I  be  afraid  of  him  for?  And  had 
he  not  told  me  that  he  would  not  hurt  me  ?  Only  the  old 
man  never  knew  what  he  saw,  and  then  he  always  wanted 
to  make  remarks. 

All  the  work  was  again  to  be  done  now,  the  same  as  last 
evening.     Almost  all.     The  hogs  were  not  specially  fed 

242 


CI-IROXICLIIS  01-  M.iNUhL  AL.LXUS 

in  the  morning  any  more  than  the  cows.  They  had  to  go 
right  down  to  their  pasture  at  the  bottom  lands.  They 
were  only  fed  in  the  evening  when  they  came  home.  That 
is  what  made  them  come  home  by  themselves.  But  the 
horses  were  fed  and  watered  and  cleaned.  And  the  chick- 
ens were  given  some  feed  in  the  morning.  Hants  let  them 
out  the  first  thing. 

Behind  the  house  was  the  garden,  slopmg  gently  down 
the  hill  planted  with  many  different  vegetables.  A  large 
potato  patch  was  in  the  next  field.  The  water  flume  car- 
ried through  across  the  garden  at  the  highest  level,  a  little 
below  the  house,  had  outlets  with  water  gates  towards  the 
vegetable  beds.  Finally  the  surplus  water  found  its  way 
to  the  head  of  the  little  gulch  and  on  down  for  further 
use  below,  all  this  being  very  well  arranged,  as  I  could 
understand,  the  whole  credit  for  which  I  gave  to  Hants. 
Below  the  garden  was  an  orchard  and  below  that  again, 
facing  the  south  and  west,  a  vineyard. 

Hants  took  me  everywhere.  It  was  Uke  being  intro- 
<luced  and  made  acquainted.  Only  I  could  not  respond  so 
well.  My  heart  was  too  heavy  with  its  misery  and  sor- 
row. I  don't  know  how  I  kept  from  showing  it.  Prob- 
ably I  did  not  altogether.  Hants  often  looked  at  me  as  if 
he  thought  something  must  be  wrong  with  me.  And  if  I 
felt  how  humanely  I  was  being  treated,  it  only  made  it 
worse.  When  France  called  us  to  breakfast  I  stopped 
outside  the  door  again,  wishing  they  would  let  me  stay 
there,  that  I  might  go  hiding  somewhere  and  give  myself 
up  to' my  homesick  grief.  But  I  was  told  to  come  in,  first 
by  Hants  in  English  and  then  by  France  in  Spanish. 

However,  they  were  both  very  easy  with  me,  as  if  they 
really  knew  what  was  best  for  me-  For  I  am  sure  at  the 
least  inquiry  of  sympathy  or  the  merest  show  of  kindly 
interest,  I  should  have  broken  down  immediately  and 
entirely.  But  the  equanimity  of  the  one  and  the  lack 
of  discernment  of  the  other,  gave  them  both  an  indiffer- 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ence  of  manner,  which  was,  without  any  real  unkindness 
on  their  part  to  add  to  my  unhappiness,  precisely  the  right 
conduct  toward  me,  leaving  me  at  least  openly  in  main- 
tenance of  my  self-control  and  manliness  before  them, 
however  much  I  might  in  secret  have  to  seek  relief  in  giv- 
ing way  to  tears  of  agony. 

But,  then,  the  good  breakfast  did  not  fail  in  its  influ- 
ence. 

I  was  very  careful  to  use  my  spoon  and  knife  and  fork 
the  way  1  had  been  told  to.  Hants  started  in,  slightly  to 
mimic  me.  He  was  very  quick  in  noticing  things  and  dis- 
posed to  make  fun.  France  was  different  altogether,  not 
quick  in  seeing  what  was  a  little  hidden,  and  slower  yet 
in  replying  to  it,  of  which  the  other  constantly  took  ad- 
vantage in  a  way  that  seemed  a  little  mean  and  made  me 
feel  uncomfortable.  And  I  guessed  Hants  was  a  little 
mean  as  well  as  selfish.,  all  the  time  looking  out  for  him- 
self. But  he  was  perfectly  open  about  it  all,  outspoken- 
like,  while  the  old  man  was  not  good-natured  in  taking 
an,ything  said  or  done,  easily  offended,  and  letting  the  of- 
fence rankle,  but  then  making  what  Hants  called  remarks. 

A  sort  of  division  of  labor  was  existent  between  them, 
France's  part  was  to  do  the  housework,  milking,  cream- 
ing, garden  and  such  other  work,  while  all  the  other  work 
in  the  field  and  wdiat  ranged  with  it  was  to  be  done 
by  Hants.  But  I  could  well  imagine  from  the  start  that 
this  division  could  never  have  been  kept  wath  any  kind  of 
strictness,  nor  intended  to  be  strictly  kept,  and  that,  espe- 
cially Hants,  had  always  to  do  many  things  that  should 
belong  to  France  to  do. 

This  morning  they  both  had  work  at  which  each  wanted 
my  assistance.  I  judge  it  w^as  partly  that  I  was  some- 
thing new  what  created  this  want ;  but  Hants  carried  the 
day,  as  he  always  did  if  he  really  wanted  to.  He  was 
going  down  to  the  Bottom,  as  they  called  it,  where  they 
had  a  hop  yard  that  had  to  be  cleaned  and  trimmed.     He 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

had  a  plow  and  horse  ready.  My  overalls  were  not  quite 
dry,  and  he  would  not  let  me  wear  them,  but  we  took  them 
along,  as  they  surely  would  be  all  dry  after  another  hour's 
sunshine.  A  big  old  straw  hat,  cut  and  laced  in  with  twine 
to  somewhat  fit  me,  was  given  me  to  put  on  my  head- 

The  Bottom  was  an  unevenly  flattened-out,  winding 
valley  with  numerous  bays,  turning  in  and  out  at  the  foot 
of  the  hills  till  there  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  it.  Part  of  it 
looked  very  much  like  the  depression  I  had  come  down 
into  the  morning  before.  There  were  no  cows  now,  and 
I  tried  to  think  it  was  another  place.  But  I  saw  a  wind- 
ing road  among  the  hills,  the  sight  of  which  suddenly 
brought  my  evil  enemy,  that  strange  man,  to  my  mind. 
And  it  acted  for  a  little  while  against  my  homesick  feeling, 
as  the  agony  of  my  grief  had  dulled  my  sense  of  danger. 

At  the  hop  yard  Hants  threw  my  overalls  on  the  near 
fence  and  bade  me  follow  him  as  he  ran  the  plow  between 
the  rows  of  hop  plants,  which  he  called  hills,  and  pull  out 
all  the  weeds  the  plow  had  loosened.  He  cautioned  me  to 
look  out  that  the  loose-swinging  vines  did  not  .cratch  me 
as  they  were  quite  rough  with  barbs  or  dingers,  which 
would  cut  right  through  the  skin.  Afterwards  I  was  to 
trim  the  plants,  cutting  off  all  trailers  and  arms  and  lower 
leaves. 

He  was  a  great  worker.  And  he  was  very  strong. 
Everything  had  to  give  way  before  him.  It  was  no  easy 
job  to  keep  up  with  him.  The  perspiration  ran  in  little 
rivers  down  his  red  face  and  throat  and  the  red  triangle 
of  his  breast  where  his  shirt  was  open.  He  seemed  to  like 
working  like  that.  He  was  jolly  at  it,  joking,  calling  to 
me  to  look  out,  and  praising  me,  saying.  "I  was  a  worker"  ; 
in  order,  I  reckon,  to  make  me  work  harder.  I  was 
sweating  like  him. 

At  noon,  while  the  horse  ate  its  hay,  we  had  our  lunch, 
which  we  had  brought  with  us.  sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  big 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

sycamore  tree  behind  the  hop  house,  a  rough  shed  used 
for  drying  and  pressing  the  hops  after  they  were  picked- 

Since  the  time  Hants  had  come  home  the  night  before, 
whenever  we  had  been  near  each  other,  he  had  been 
watching  me  a  good  deal  and  often  abruptly  asking  me 
questions.  I  knew  very  well  it  was  to  make  me  speak. 
But  I  had  never  spoken  yet,  although  I  had  been  very 
close  to  it  very  often.  At  first  I  had  been  speechless,  or 
nearly  so  from  exhaustion  as  well  as  terror.  Afterwards, 
T  presume,  I  kept  silent  from  caution.  And  even  now, 
though  I  could  not  but  be  certain  that  neither  of  the  two 
men  would  ever  intentionally  harm  me,  I  could  not  feel 
altogether  secure  to  speak  and  thus  come  to  tell  about 
myself,  which  would  be  the  natural  consequence  of  speak- 
ing. At  the  same  time,  however,  I  almost  wished  for  a 
good  chance  to  break  my  silence,  as  I  began  to  feel  foolish 
about  it,  mean  and  silly,  as  if  I  wanted  to  make  out  I  could 
not  speak  a  word. 

Hants  had  told  me  to  put  on  my  overalls  that  were  now 
all  hot  dry,  to  protect  my  bare  legs  from  the  hop  vines, 
and  he  was  helping  me  to  fix  my  shirt  in  back,  when  he 
saw  some  of  my  bruises  and  cuts  that  were  healing,  but 
not  all  healed  up  yet.  Looking  farther  he  saw  more.  I 
tried  to  get  away  from  him  as  soon  as  I  found  out  what 
he  was  about,  but  he  held  me  fast,  pushed  my  shirt  down 
from  my  neck  and  examined  my  body.  Then  he  turned 
me  round  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face. 

"Holy  Jesus,"  he  said,  "what  have  you  been  doing?" 

I  felt  terribly  guilty.     I  had  not  a  word  to  say. 

"Christ  Almighty !  But  somebody  has  been  giving  you 
hell !  What  have  you  been  doing  ?"  he  went  on.  "Why, 
they  must  have  been  whipping  you  with  barbed  wire.  Has 
somebody  been  wanting  to  kill  you  ?" 

"And  did  the  old  man  not  see  this?"  he  cried.  "I 
asked  him  if  there  were  any  marks  on  you-     But  he  does 

246 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

not  see  anything.  Coiiie  here  now  I  Wait  till  I  tell  you ! 
1  want  to  talk  to  you." 

He  then  told  me  he  could  see  very  well  that  I  did  not 
want  to  speak.  Perhaps  I  had  done  something  very  bad 
and  was  afraid  to  give  myself  away.  Maybe  somebody  I 
had  got  away  from  was  chasing  me.  Well,  I  need  not 
speak  if  I  did  not  want  to.  He  would  ask  no  more  ques- 
tions. He  did  not  want  to  know  anything  at  all  about  me. 
After  all,  I  was  only  some  half-breed  kid  and  of  not  much 
account,  and  some  day,  he  was  sure,  I  would  be  running 
away  from  them  again.  But  somehow  he  had  taken  a 
sort  of  liking  to  me,  and  he  thought  I  should  be  worth  my 
keep  anyhow.  And  now,  if  I  had  been  abused,  as  anybody 
could  plainly  tell  I  had,  and  had  been  driven  away,  or  had 
run  away  from  somebody  and  somewhere  and  did  not 
know  where  to  go  or  what  to  do,  and  wanted  to  stay  here 
on  the  farm  with  them,  they  would  take  me  for  my  keep. 
But  I  should  have  to  mind.  And  he  thought  he  could  tell 
that  I  would  do  what  I  was  told  to  do.  And  I  should 
have  to  work.  Word  hard,  too,  though  not  harder  than 
what  was  right  and  reason.  And  that  I  was  used  to  work 
my  hands  plainly  showed  and  my  actions  plainer  yet.  I 
should  be  decently  treated  and  not  abused  in  any  way-  He 
would  promise  me  that  and  see  to  it.  He  had  been  badly 
abused  himself  when  he  had  been  a  boy,  and  he  knew 
what  it  was.  And  he  would  promise  me  and  give  me  his 
hand  on  it,  that  as  long  as  I  w^as  with  him  and  he  with 
me,  nobody  should  do  anything  to  me,  nobody  should  hurt 
me.  Now,  if  this  was  all  right,  he  wanted  me  to  say  so, 
speak  just  one  word ;  say  **all  right." 

I  did  not  say  "all  right."  I  took  his  hand,  which  he  held 
out  to  me  and  said,  *'Yes."  And  as  I  said  it,  he  broke  into 
loud  laughter,  crying:  "I  knew  I  could  make  you  speak.  I 
knew  I  should  catch  you,"  and  I  really  did  not  know  but 
what  I  had  been  taken  in. 

While  he  had  been  speaking  a  feeling  of  relief  had  come 

247 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

to  me  and  of  hope  for,  I  liardly  knew  what,  piercing  even 
my  homesick  grieving  and  fiUing  me  with  such  sweet 
gratitude  in  my  heart,  it  had  almost  brought  me  to  tears 
and  made  me  think  of  him  as  of  one  who  cared  a  Uttle  for 
me  and  would  help  me,  whom  I  could  trust  and  give  ni}-- 
self  up  to.  Although  at  the  same  time  it  was  more  than 
puzzling,  looking  a  little  suspicious  in  fact,  how  he  could 
tell  so  much  about  me,  almost  as  if  he  knew  my  case.  He 
liad  now  made  me  very  doubtful  if  he  meant  anything 
he  had  said.  Everything  was  very  little  better  than  it 
had  been.  My  silence  had  been  broken,  but  I  could  hardly 
trust  myself  to  speak.  All  the  afternoon  I  kept  away 
from  him  all  I  could.  I  had  to  fight  very  hard  for  self- 
control.  And  it  seemed  an  awfully  long  time  till  at  last 
onr  day's  work  was  done,  and  it  was  time  to  go  home. 

A  change  there  was  then,  some  other  feelings  came, 
thoughts  of  the  place  on  the  hill.  To  think  of  the  cheerful 
room  in  the  little  house,  of  the  evening  meal,  of  all  the  ani- 
mals. And  when  we  arrived  at  the  farm  yard,  how  every- 
tlnng  appeared  to  have  been  waiting  for  us  in  anxious 
expectation !  What  noise  the  pigs  made !  How  glad 
the  dogs  were !  How  my  friendly  cow  turned  her  head  to 
me  when  I  came  with  the  milk  pail ! 

Hants  was  very  triumphant.  ''I  told  you  I  should  make 
him  talk,"  he  shouted  to  the  old  man.  "I  told  you  I  could 
and  I  would,  and  I  did.  Now,  to-morrow  I  am  going 
to  Fairlies  and  get  him  some  clothes.  But  mind,  you  pay 
half!     That  is  business." 

After  supper  and  washing  up,  France  produced  the 
box  with  books  and  told  me  that  the  next  day  he  was' 
going  to  begin  to  teach  me  to  read  and  to  write  and  other 
things  that  were  all  in  the  books.  He  opened  some  of 
them,  and  we  looked  at  some  pictures  in  them.  Hants 
would  be  saying  something  funny  about  some  of  the  pic- 
tures. And  he  spoke  words  for  me  to  repeat,  saying  he 
would  teach  me  to  speak  English  before  France  would 

248 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

teach  me  to  read  Spanish.     He  did  teach  me  the  English 
alphabet  that  evening.    And  I  thought  he  must  know  some 

Soanish,  too.  j  i     t  •         «. 

'l  Uked  all  this:  the  learning  and  telhng  and  lookmg  at 
the  pictures.     And  1  liked  the  company  of  the  two  men 
and  the  pleasant  room.     But  the  pain  was  htill  in  my 
breast  all  the  time,  making  my  heart  feel  sore.     When 
the  lights  in  the  house  had  been  put  out  and  the  mur- 
muring of  the  voices  of  the  men  had  stopped,  and  i 
had  gone  to  lie  in  the  field  under  the  trees,  alone  m  the 
unknown,  silent  night,  I  lay  and  listened  for  the  noise 
of  the  bay,  the  rushing  of  the  tide  under  the  wharf,  the 
surf,   the   slapping   of   the   water   at  the  boat-steps    the 
whistling  of  the  wind  and  farther  away  the  sounds  of  the 
big  city  blending  together  into  that  low,  dull  roar,  which 
was  most  plainly  audible  at  certain  times  of  the  morn- 
ing and  the  late  afternoon,  like  an  endless  railway-train 
crossing  a  distant  bridge:  but  entirely  different  from  the 
noi^e  of  the  trains  on  the  other  side  of  the  bay,  running 
out  to  the  end  of  the  moles.     On  just  such  nights,  only 
seldom  so  calm  and  clear,  1  had  always  been  able  to  hear 
the  moving  trains,  and  see  the  hghts  of  the  towns  and 
the  outlines  of  the  dark  hills  behind  the  lights,  against 
the  starrv  skv.    Those  hills  had  always  seemed  to  me  like 
the  end  of  the  known  world:  as  if  there  could  be  noth- 
ing bevond  them  to  think  of.     Now  I  knew  how  big  the 
world' was,   and   where  in  it  was   my  old   wharf  .^     My 

home!     Mv  home!  . 

In  the  morning  Hants  started  on  his  trip  to  Fairhes. 
He  went  in  the  old  cart.  I  had  to  fetch  the  horse  for  it, 
and  he  showed  me  how  to  put  it  in  the  shafts  and  how 
to  hitch  it  up.  About  that  and  other  things  concerning 
horses  I  alreadv  knew  quite  a  little  from  having  seen 
and  learned  it  at  the  livery-stable  near  our  wharf,  only  i 
was  too  small  to  do  it  all  alone.  "But  I  should  soon  be 
bi-crer."  Hants  said.      He  was  going  to  take  some  eggs 

249 


CHRONICLES  OP  MANUEL  ALANUS 

along  to  sell,  and  butter,  which  I,  that  morning  liad 
had  to  churn,  the  first  time  I  ever  turned  a  churn  and 
learned  how  butter  came  to  be  made,  which  was  exceed- 
ingly interesting-  I  had  known  what  butter  was,  but  I 
never  had  tasted  any  that  I  knew  of. 

The  butter  and  the  eggs,  close-packed  in  boxes  with 
divisions,  were  put  in  a  tightly  closed  receptacle  under 
the  seat.  Hants  lit  his  pipe,  ordered  back  the  dogs, 
told  me  to  take  good  care  of  things  and  look  cut  well  for 
the  pigs,  and  went  off  in  the  old  cart  wobbling  down  the 
hili.  He  was  glad  of  his  trip,  I  could  see,  and  at  first, 
I,  too,  was  glad  in  a  way,  glad  because  he  was  glad  and 
also  because  of  thinking  of  the  clothes  he  had  said  he  was 
going  to  get  for  me.  But  after  a  very  short  while  I 
became  uneasy  at  his  absence.  Something  seemed  want- 
ing everywhere.  All  the  animals,  too,  seemed  to  know 
that  all  was  not  as  usual.  The  dogs  were  quite  restless. 
And,  although  with  all  the  work  and  its  being  my  first 
>chool-day  with  France,  I  had  not  one  idle  minute  the 
whole  day,  I  never  lost  the  sense  of  uneasiness.  And 
in  the  evening,  when  I  came  to  understand  that  France 
did  not  expect  Hants  back  that  night,  that  he  might  even 
stay  away  a  second  night,  I  could  hardly  think  it  pos- 
sible that  we  could  endure  that. 

I  had  taken  great  pains  with  my  lessons,  learning  my 
letters  and  indeed  a  great  deal  more,  so  that  France 
was  well  pleased  with  me  and  more  yet  with  himself, 
his  own  teaching  power.  I  had  meant,  no  doubt  to  show 
off  before  Hants,  when  he  came  home.  Learning  to 
write  the  letters,  I  had  managed  to  learn  those  for  his 
name  and  get  them  together  and  with  his  name,  as  I 
spelled  it.  And  now,  there  was  this  disappointment  of 
his  not  coming  back  that  night- 

I  sat  late  over  my  book  and  slate  and  kept  France  at 
it  too ;  as  though  by  sitting  up  and  waiting  for  Hants  to 
come  I  could  bring  about  his  return  that  night,  or  make  it 

250 


CHRONICLES  01'  MANUEL  ALANUS 

a  little  more  possible.  But  at  last  I  had  to  go  out  to  my 
shed  The  dogs  France  took  into  the  house ;  he  thought, 
being  restless  they  might  bark  if  left  outside  and  break 

°"ks'soon  as  his  light  was  out  I  got  up  and  went  to  sit 
on  the  step  of  the  house  door.  But  I  heard  the  dog 
sniffing  at  me  under  the  door  and  went  away  for  fear 
o  the  dogs  making  a  noise,  I  wandered  round  about 
the  farm-fard.  I  climbed  over  the  fence  n,to  he  cow- 
field  which  extended  both  ways,  uphill  and  down.  1 
walked  uphill  to  above  the  heap  of  rocks  our  spnng-water 
came  out  of.  The  ground  was  very  steep.  But  it  did 
noTlook  so.  It  was  strange  how  all  the  hills  looked  low, 
and  flattened-out  in  the  dark. 

I  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  listening  to  some  sound 
1  thought  I  heard.  But  it  was  only  in  my  ears  I  had 
an  idea  it  might  be  the  old  cart.  I  saw  three  stars  m  a 
row  I  had  often  seen  them  from  our  wharf  when  it 
was  clear  They  were  almost  all  alike  and  they  stood 
Tlmost  straight  up  and  down  in  a  line,  the  last  one  just 
coming  up  over  the  low,  black  hills  in  the  sky. 
No  sign  of  life  in  all  the  land ! 

The  pain  in  my  breast  was  no  longer  so  bad.  But  1 
felt  more  desolate  than  ever  before.  It  was  as  if  now 
for  the  first  time  I  had  come  to  fully  and  clearly  compre- 
hend that  I  should  never  get  back  to  the  old  wharf  neve^ 
see  Nick  and  Nello  again,  never  Mahon  nor  Mr.  lem 
ntdock      Nor  him.  dearest  of  all! 

I  vvandered  round  again,  to  the  horses-farther,  to  the 
pigs  that  were  sleeping,  lying  in  short  rows  close-packed 
side  bv  side  on  the  ground.  Later  I  was  lymg  near  the 
hay-stack  by  the  cow-corral.  I  had  not  wanted  to  sleep. 
;  dreaded  Ly  dream.  But  at  last  I  slept.  And  my 
dream  came.  It  was  night,  but  there  were  no  stars. 
?  waTon  a  mountainside  above  the  Black's  hut.  The  sky 
was  a  little  lighter  than  the  ground  and  above,  I  saw  two 


-D 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

black  figures  of  men.  They  could  not  see  me  against  the 
black  ground  but  they  were  coming  towards  me.  They 
were  the  Black  and  the  strange  man.  They  were  search- 
ing for  me-  I  tried  to  roll  over,  down  the  slope,  but  I 
could  not  move.  Something  was  holding  me  down,  some- 
thing flabby,  a  horrible,  suffocating  weight  on  my  chest 
and  legs  and  arms.  And  now,  I  knew  it  to  be  the  dog 
by  its  foul  smell ;  and  it  was  trying  to  get  at  my  throat 
with  its  fangs. 

Then  it  all  changed  and  suddenly  I  seemed  to  be 
awake  and  to  know  that  I  had  been  but  dreaming.  Every- 
thing was  so  plain  and  so  light,  I  must  be  awake.  It  was 
a  beautiful  day.  Hants  had  come  back.  We  were  work- 
ing in  the  garden.  He  wanted  a  hoe  he  had  left  in  the 
hop-shed  and  sent  me  to  fetch  it.  I  ran  till  I  was  wet 
with  sweat.  But  when  1  came  in  sight  of  the  hop-shed 
I  felt  a  strange  dread  to  go  near  it.  Something  was  in 
there.  Something  had  just  gone  in  at  the  door.  I  had 
seen  nothing  and  heard  nothing,  but  something  had  gone 
in.  In  the  door  was  cut  a  square  hole  for  light,  about  the 
size  of  a  man's  head.  I  could  just  reach  it  with  my 
hands ;  and  as  I  lifted  myself  and  looked,  there  appeared 
suddenly  in  the  black  opening  that  horribly  distorted  face, 
as  I  had  seen  it,  so  close  it  must  have  touched  mine  had  I 
not  fallen  back- 

I  lay  in  a  stupor,  soaked  with  sweat.  Little  by  little 
I  became  conscious  that  it  was  daylight  and  that  the  pigs 
were  making  an  unusual  noise.  It  was  late;  they  ought 
to  have  been  let  out  before  this.  I  ran  to  their  yard 
and  found  three  hogs  were  in  the  garden,  rooting  up 
things.  They  had  broken  through  the  fence.  The  others 
were  fighting  to  get  in.  That  was  the  noise  I  heard.  I 
opened  the  gate  to  their  corral  and  they  went  off  down 
the  hill,  and  two  of  the  three  in  the  garden  went  along, 
out  through  the  break  in  the  fence,  without  having  to  be 

252 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

chased.     The  third  one,  I  had  great  trouble  to  drive  out, 
and  the  garden  afterwards  looked  half  destroyed. 

I  can  never  forget  how  very  bad  I  felt  about  this. 
Had  not  Hants  told  me  to  look  out  for  the  pigs?  The 
dogs  had  barked  at  my  chasing  the  pig;  I  ought  to  have 
let  the  dogs  out  to  help,  at  least  the  shepherd  dog.  But 
I  had  thought  the  dogs  would  make  more  havoc  and 
ruination ;  or  I  had  not  known  enough.  I  should  have  let 
the  pigs  out  earlier.  I  should  not  have  wandered  about 
half  the  night  trying  not  to  sleep  and  knowing  very  well 
my  dream  would  come  anyhow. 

Old  France  was  not  up  yet.  I  had  all  the  feeding  and 
milking  and  creaming  done  before  he  appeared-  Sitting 
up  late  the  night  before  had  made  him  sleep  late.  He 
wanted  to  know  what  I  had  made  so  much  noise  for  and 
set  the  dogs  abarking.  I  told  him  about  the  pigs.  He 
went  to  look  at  the  garden.  At  first  he  had  nothing  to 
say.  but  later,  when  we  had  gone  to  work  after  breakfast 
to  repair  the  damage,  and  it  took  us  till  noontime  before 
we  got  through  and  we  had  the  garden  in  shape  again 
and  the  fence  mended,  he  had  a  good  many  remarks  to 
make.  What  seemed  to  fret  him  most  was  that  we  had  to 
skip  school  that  forenoon,  for  working.  And  no  pains- 
taking on  my  part  at  the  afternoon's  lessons,  nor  quicker 
progress,  could  make  good  this  loss. 

France  was  pretty  good  at  gardening  although  slow, 
and  quite  particular.  When  we  had  finished  our  work 
the  garden  looked  better  than  it  had  done  before  the  pigs 
broke  in  and  the  actual  damage  was  trifling. 

We  were  sitting  at  supper  that  evening  when  the  dogs 
barked  and  Hants  came  driving  into  the  yard  in  his 
wobbling  cart.  I  was  so  glad  he  was  back,  I  ran  out  to 
him.  I  wanted  to  tell  him  about  the  pigs,  too.  because 
for  certain  I  could  not  be  easy  till  that  was  told.  But 
I  found  no  chance  to  speak  to  him  now.  He  had  a  big 
package  which  he  carried  into  the  house,  leaving  me  to 

253 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

unhitch  the  horse  and  put  it  in  the  corral  Then  he  put 
up  the  cart  and  went  to  wash  himself.  As  he  was  towel- 
Hng  his  face,  I  told  him  my  story  of  the  pigs.  He  only 
laughed,  and  said  it  was  nothing.  And  this  easy  and 
good-humored  way  of  taking  my  neglect,  my  carelessness, 
seemed  to  sting  me  more  than  all  of  France's  remarks. 
I  felt  like  wanting  Hants  to  get  mad  and  do  something 
to  punish  me,  at  least  scold  me,  to  make  us  even. 

Then,  after  supper,  when  the  table  was  clear  and  clean, 
he  opened  the  big  package,  and  it  was  all  things  for  me : 
a  pair  of  boots  and  a  pair  of  shoes  and  two  overalls  like 
the  ones  I  had,  and  three  gray  flannel  shirts  and  a  pair  of 
cotton  drawers,  a  sweater  and  an  undershirt  to  wear  with 
it,  a  pair  of  knee-breeches  and  a  jacket  or  coat  such  as 
city-boys  wear,  a  neckerchief  and  a  belt  and  a  straw  hat 
and  a  soft  gray  hat. 

It  was  so  much,  I  had  never  had  so  many  things  to- 
together  at  one  time  in  all  my  life,  and  I  felt  so  ashamed 
to  get  all  these  things,  and  after  that  pig-business,  too,  I 
did  not  know  what  to  say  or  to  do.  Yet  to  be  sure  I  was 
glad.  And  as  I  began  to  realize  what  a  lot  of  fine  things 
I  was  becoming  the  owner  of  T  became  more  glad.  The 
sweater,  how  beautiful !  And  the  russet  belt  with  the 
nickel  buckle!  And  the  gray  hat  with  the  black  silk 
ribband.  I  always  had  regretted  that  new  hat  which  I 
had  left  in  the  log-cabin  on  the  mountain  to  burn  up. 
Now,  this  hat  was  much  finer. 

Hants  was  watching  me  with  his  broadest  smiles ;  and 
knowing,  I  can  fancy,  that  I  just  wanted  him  to  do  that, 
he  held  out  his  hand  to  me,  so  I  could  grab  it  and  wring 
it  with  both  of  mine,  trying  to  say  something.  And  to 
bear  up  against  his  undeserved  leniency  in  that  matter  of 
the  pigs  I  was  secretly  making  a  sort  of  vow  to  myself, 
that  never,  never  should  such  rarelessnes  of  mine  happen 
again. 

254 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

I  thanked  France  too,  though  it  felt  not  a  Uttle  like 

making  rather  free.  ^         a 

Hants  had  the  receipted  bill  for  the  things  ready  and 
made  France  settle  with  him  right  away  for  his  share 
of  the  costs,  the  money  received  for  the  butter  and  eggs 
not  being  sufftcient  to  square  the  account.  And  he  was 
making  all  kind  of  signs  to  me,  shutting  one  eye,  crook- 
ing his  mouth,  showing  a  coin,  all  to  give  me  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  cheating  France,  making  him  pay  more 
than  his  share,  which  I  nowise  properly  comprehended 
or  perhaps  thought  a  joke  and  that  he  afterwards  would 
make  it  all  right  again-  But  I  think  now  he  really  meant 
to  cheat  France  and  really  did,  thinking  it  more  than  a 

very  good  joke.  .•  i^   . 

After  that  I  had  to  trv  on  every  one  of  the  article., 
and  this  tryin-on  of  the  new  c'othes  is  the  last  of  what  i 
remember  of  my  first  days  at  F.ve  Oaks.    I  can  see,  now, 
this  moment,  Hants  helping  me  to  button  up    turning  me 
round  and  round,  making  me  >tep  back,  holding  up  the 
lamp  for  a  better  view  of  me,  taking  his  private  hand- 
mirror  out  of  his  bunk  to  let  me  look  at  myseh,  appealing 
once  in  a  while  to  France,  who  was  seated  at  the  other 
side  of  the  table  with  his  spectacles  over  a  book,  preparing 
for  next  day's  teachings,  and  turning,  when  called  upon. 
rather  stiff-necked  to  look  at  me,  as  at  a  distant  land- 

The  next  event  which  I  remember,  if  not  too  clearly, 
is  the  hop-picking  and  bean-pickmg  at  our  place.  I  know 
the  hops  were  a  little  late,  while  the  beans  were  very  early 
and  were  picked  right  after  the  hops ;  for  which  a  num- 
ber of  Chinese  laborers  had  been  sent  by  the  Boss  from 
Fountain  Head,  our  hop-yard  being  not  large  but  our 
bean-field  was  extensive,  taking  in  the  greater  part  of  the 

bottom  lands. 

I  did  not  -ee  very  much  of  this  work,  for  the  reason 
that  Hants  bossing  it  left  so  much  more  for  me  to  do 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

round  the  house  so  as  to  take  up  all  of  my  time.  And 
for  another  leason  that  somehow  the  hop-shed  had  come 
into  some  connection  with  the  haunting  frights  of  my 
dreams,  so  that  I  did  not,  if  T  could  help  it,  go  near  it. 
And  for  yet  another  reason,  that  I  thought,  some  of  the 
Chinamen  might  be  of  those  wHh  whom  I  had  that  time 
come  from  the  city  with  Lum,  although  I  ought  to  have 
known  enough  to  know  that  they  never  in  the  world  could 
recognize  me. 

But  more  than  three  months  must  have  elapsed  since 
my  coming  to  Five  Oaks  before  the  bean-crop  was  har- 
vested, and  in  that  time  I  can  imagine  me  well  grown 
into  my  new  life,  in  the  empty  country,  alone  with  my 
two  men,  with  constantly  inci easing  liking  for  it  all: 
the  place,  the  men,  the  things,  my  schooling,  my  work, 
in  the  ever  beautiful  weather,  till  with  the  moderating  of 
my  homesickness  the  days  had  again  become  days  of 
lighter  heart,  contentment,  enjoyment  of  the  hour,  fun. 
If  only  that  black  weight  could  have  been  lifted  oflf  my 
soul :  the  terror  of  my  imagined  pursuit,  of  my  impending 
doom. 

I  could  not  speak  of  it.  Not  without  being  brought  to 
it,  questioned,  led  on,  urged.  I  never  was  afraid  or  shy 
of  speaking  to  anybody.  But  if  it  is  hard  for  a  child 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  to  tell  a  story 
of  only  plain  facts,  how  was  I,  even  fully  trusting  my  men 
as  I  did,  to  tell  this,  except  under  examination  and  cross- 
examination?  How  had  it  all  come  about?  What  had  it 
all  meant?  What  had  I  done  to  bring  this  on,  to  be 
stolen,  drugged,  beaten  and  beaten  and  strangled,  shot  at  ? 
Who  was  that  strange  man  to  want  me  dead?  It  was  all 
stupefaction.  Who  could  understand  it?  Who  would 
believe  it? 

It  had  been  like  some  act  of  nature,  a  hurricane  or 
flood,  when,  if  it  caught  one,  nothing  could  be  done  only 
to  watch  to  escape  and  lie  low  in  as  safe  a  place  as  could 

256 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

be  got  to,  till  it  was  over.  Oiny  this  somehow  was  not 
over.  How  much  the  drug  given  me  had  to  do  with  it  I 
do  not  know.  It  made  me  look  upon  my  whole 
adventure  as  something  I  must  hide  from  everybody, 
from  myself,  not  think  of  it,  deny  it  to  myself,  or  bring 
about  discovery  and  instant  seizure  by  the  evil  power  that 
was  aiming  at  my  worse  than  death.  As  I  can  follow  it 
in  the  workings  of  my  mind,  I  cime  to  regard,  to  feel  the 
enmity  of  this  evil  being,  his  dt-signs  on  me,  my  fancied 
pursuit,  the  certainty  of  my  capture  as  something  form- 
ing part  of  my  existence,  something  I  could  never  get 
escape  from,  my  doom,  my  fate,  which  I  must  silently 
bear  till  such  a  time  when  my  again  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  strange  evil-one  for  everlasting  torturing  would 
take  place. 

If  only  I  had  been  made  to  talk  about  it !  If  only  I  had 
told  somebody  the  secret  of  my  dreams ! 

Hants  had  once  been  very  near  making  me  tell.  And 
I  am  very  sure  he  would  have  penetrated  to  the  bottom 
of  my  mystery  and  have  cleared  it  up.  If  only  he  had  not 
given  up  his  questioning  but  had  persisted.  I  could 
not  have  kept  my  story  from  lom.  My  truthfulness  must 
have  made  me  answer  truthfully.  And  if  I  could  not  have 
made  anything  but  a  very  riddlesome  tale  of  it,  he  would 
have  understood  to  make  it  intelligible  to  himself. 

But  he  contented  himself  with  leaving  things  alone, 
partly  or  mostly  from  carelessness,  or,  I  will  say,  good- 
natured  consideration  for  me.  His  aim  was  not  to  harass 
me  and  increase  my  evident  nervous  distress  by  urging 
or  tricking  me  into  telling  what  I  was  plainly  most  anxious 
to  conceal,  and  what  would  be  soonest  remedied,  it  might 
be,  by  my  forgetting,  if  I  were  left  to  myself;  but  on  the 
contrary  to  ease  my  mind  by  promising  me  protection, 
take  me  to  them,  proposing  to  make  me  comfortable  with 
them,  and  then  let  me  be.  Satisfied,  too,  I  have  no  doubt, 
he  was  with  acquiring  in  me  at  a  cheap  rate,  a  willing  and 

257 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

with  all  my  smallness  a  helpful  worker,  greatly  needed 
by  them  indeed,  a  welcome  addition,  at  the  same  time  to 
their  society  on  the  retired  farm,  to  France  a  most  desired 
object  for  practising  school-teaching  and  education  on, 
and  to  Hants  himself  a  companion,  certainly  an  attentive 
listener  to  his  talk  in  the  solitude  of  the  fields;  and  for 
occasions  a  kind  of  plaything. 

Such  an  occasion,  which  I  have  never  forgotten,  was 
the  coming  to  our  place  of  a  man  with  a  boy,  his  son  or 
nephew,  between  whom  and  myself  Hants  was  presently 
trying  to  get  up  a  fight  or  boxing-match  to  entertain 
the  grown  people  for  an  idle  hour,  the  day  being  Sun- 
day. They  belonged  to  a  couple  of  families,  who  were 
on  their  way  from  the  Southern  part  of  the  big,  inland 
California  valley  up  North  into  the  Shasta  country  where 
they  had  bought  land  and  were  going  to  settle.  They  had 
made  camp  the  night  before  somewhere  at  the  foot  of 
our  hills.  The  man  had  gone  out  to  find  some  place 
where  he  could  buy  some  potatoes  they  were  short  of, 
and  had  accidentally  struck  the  road  to  Five  Oaks-  The 
boy  had  come  along. 

1  well  remember  how  excited  I  became  at  the  first  sight 
of  them,  as  they  suddenly  appeared  at  our  yard-gate,  the 
first  white  strangers  I  had  seen  since  I  had  come  to  Five 
Oaks,  and  especially  at  seeing  the  boy,  in  the  manner,  I 
suppose,  of  one  animal  seeing  another  of  the  same  kind. 
The  sight  delighted  me.  I  could  have  hugged  him.  I 
don't  know  that  he  was  particularly  good-looking,  nor  did 
he  later  prove  to  be  anything  but  an  ordinary  and  perhaps 
somewhat  more  than  ordinarily  foolish  boy.  But  he 
looked  handsome  to  me  and  full  of  good  qualities.  He 
reminded  me  of  all  the  children  I  had  ever  known  and 
liked.  He  had  come,  I  could  fancy,  from  a  world  I  had 
once  dwelt  in  myself,  a  beautiful  world,  full  of  beautiful 
all-things,  now  vanished  forever. 

Hants,  mistaking,  I  suppose,  my  excitement,  called  me 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

to  him  and  bade  me  stay  with  him  and  be  easy,  till,  after 
finding  out  who  the  man  was  and  what  he  wanted.  He 
then  sent  me  into  the  garden  to  dig  up  some  potatoes, 
the  boy  making  me  quite  happy  by  going  along,  stand- 
ing by,  looking  on,  telling  me  in  how  well  known  boyish 
bragging  all  sorts  of  stories :  how  many  thousand  horses 
his  "father  owned  and  how  h-  had  with  his  father's  re- 
volver last  night  shot  and  killevi  a  big  grizzly,  hittmg  him 

right  in  the  eye. 

But  pretty  soon  he  wanted  to  fire  some  potatoes  at  the 
horses  and  chickens,  and  when  1  stopped  him  doing  that 
he  picked  up  lumps  of  earth  to  do  it  with.  I  had  to 
catch  his  hands.  He  grew  quite  rough.  He  started  m  to 
pull  up  vegetable-plants  and  T  had  to  hustle  him  out  of 
the  garden,  back  to  where  the  man  was  standing,  talk- 
ing To  Hants,  where  the  resp  visibility  for  his  misdeeds 
would  not  rest  on  me. 

It  was  on  seeing  us  struggling  that  Hants  proposed  that 
we  boys  should  fight,  or  spar,  urging:  "They  ought  to 
fight  anyhow.  It  does  them  good.  And  we  ought  to  have 
some  fun  out  of  them.    They  can  not  hurt  each  other-" 

The  man  said  the  boy's  mother  would  not  like  him  to 
fight.     But  later  it  came  to  a  fight  anyhow.     The  boy 
had   taken   the   hatchet   out   of   the   woodshed   and   had 
chopped  with  it  at  almost  everything;  the  fences,  trees, 
sheds,  troughs.     The  hatchet  was  a  very  nice  hatchet, 
new,  dean  and  sharp,  really  inviting  one  to  take  it  and 
chop  away  with  it,  and  I  suppose  the  boy  could  not  resist. 
He  seemed,  any  way,  to  be  one  of  the  kind  that  have  their 
own  way  pretty  much  all  the  time.     And  he  had  been 
alone     I  had  been  with  France,  cleaning  up.     Hants  and 
the  man  had  been  looking  at  the  vineyard.     When  they 
came  back  and  Hants  saw  the  cutting  done  he  became 
angry     Outspoken  as  he  always  was,  he  scolded  the  boy 
roundly,  making  the  man,  too,  for  shame's  sake,  scold  the 
boy,  asking  what  business  he  had  to  touch  what  was  not 

259 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

his,  when  the  boy  said,  "I  had  given  him  the  hatchet  and 
told  him  to  do  all  the  cutting  he  wanted."  Thereupon,  of 
course,  Hants  called  me  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say  to  that, 
and  I  very  truly  made  answer  ''that  the  boy  lied,  though 
I  felt  very  much  ashamed  for  him  to  have  to  say  it." 

The  man  and  the  boy,  too,  were,  as  it  appeared,  quite 
willing  to  let  it  go  at  that.  I  dare  say  it  was  no  news  to 
them.  But  Hants,  who  now  saw  his  opportunity,  did  not 
rest  till  we  were  arrayed  for  a  fight,  not  to  the  man's 
satisfaction  altogether,  perhaps,  because  of  the  boy's 
mother.  Still  he  felt  rather  sure,  I  fancied,  of  the  boy's 
being  more  than  my  match,  bigger  as  he  was,  and  was 
agreeable  to  see  me  beaten.  The  boy  was  not  so  insensible 
as  not  to  feel  himself  in  the  wrong.  He  did  not  want  to 
fight  very  much,  I  could  see,  but  I  think  he  had  the  same 
opinion  about  it  as  the  man- 

I  never  was  a  fighter,  but  I  liad  had  to  learn  to  defend 
myself,  and  if  I  knew  more  about  it  than  other  boys,  it 
was  what  Mahon  had  taught  me.  Small  boys  I  could 
never  strike,  and  I  never  wanted  to  fight  anyone  that  did 
not  want  to  fight,  or  cried.  But  this  boy  knew  something 
about  boxing.  And  he  was  a  far  better  hitter  than  I  had 
taken  him  to  be.  He  could  not  get  me  off  my  feet,  I 
always  was  very  firm  in  my  legs.  He  punished  me  badly 
enough,  though.  All  the  time,  however,  I  felt  sure,  if  I 
held  out,  I  should  win.  And  I  also  felt  that  in  order  to 
clear  myself  of  this  imputed  wrongdoing,  fasten  the  lie 
on  the  boy,  and  set  myself  right  with  my  men,  at  least 
Hants,  I  must  win.  And  I  did.  The  next  time  the  boy 
struck,  I  let  myself  down  and  was  up  again  and  had 
landed  twice  on  his  jaw  before  he  knew  what  was  hap- 
pening.   And  then  I  sent  him  down  flat. 

He  howled  and  cried  and  crawled  away  tc  the  man, 
who  said  something  about  its  being  enough. 

"Well,"  shouted  Hants,  *iet  him  confess,  then,  tKat  he 
lied." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

The  man  told  him  to  speak  up  and  tell  if  he  took  the 
hatchet  himself.    He  could  not  give  a  straight  answer  even 

^  ^^l  only  wanted  to  cut  a  little  twig  for  a  whip,"  he 

whined.  ^  i   j  ^    u     ^ 

I  was  sorry  for  him  to  cry,  but  still  I  was  glad  to  have 
won,  but  nothing  to  what  Hants  was,  who  kept  saying: 
"I  knew  you  would  win,  I  knew  you  would  wm,  addmg 
when  we  were  alone :  "I  reckon  you  hit  pretty  hard  Your 
hand  is  pretty  heavy  and  hard  knit  from  hard  work.  You 
hurt  him  pretty  badly.  ^^  But  no  worse  than  he  deserved. 
for  he  was  a  dirty  liar." 

France  that  evening  read  me  a  long  lectuie  on  prin- 
ciples of  hospitality,  good  manners  and  gentlemanly  be- 
havior, Hants  sitting  by  in  silence,  smoking  his  pipe,  mak- 
ing faces,  giving  me  looks  and  grimaces  and  wmks,  to  let 
me  into  the  secret  of  his  enjoying  these  remarks  as  being 
intended  for  him.  But  I  think  I  listened  very  seriously 
to  what  the  old  man  was  saying,  and  formed  a  sort  oi 
resolution  to  act  differently  next  time,  I  could  not  tell 
exactly  how,  but  differently. 

My  reading  had  to  be  cut  short  that  evenmg,  as  niy 
eyes  were  nearly  closed ;  next  morning  Hants  was  laugh- 
ing at  me  for  their  discolored  swelling.     But  it  soon  all 
went  away.     The  following  week  when  Hants  went  to 
Fairlies  he  brought  back  from  there  some  boxing  gloves 
for  him  and  me,  and  a  punching  bag,  and  at  suitable  times 
gave  me  lessons  in  boxing,  wherein  he  was  quite  an  expert- 
Shortly  after  this  it  must  have  been  that  the  native  cow- 
boy, Salvador,  came  to  our  place,  who  taught  me  a  1  kmds 
of  horsemansip  and  the  use  of  the  lariat.     I  had  learned 
to  ride  horseback  and  how  to  manage  a  horse  pretty  well 
before  this.     I  had  been  on  a  horse  often  enough.     We 
had  a  strong,  little,  pinto  pony  that  I  could  always  take  to 
eo  after  the  cows  or  pigs,  or  to  go  anywheres  of  any  dis- 
tance.   I  do  not  remember  the  first  time  I  was  put  on  a 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

horse.  I  presume  Hants  did  it.  I  know  I  first  had  to  go 
bareback  with  nothing  but  a  piece  of  hay  rope  hitched  up 
for  a  bridle.  After  a  while  Hants  fixed  me  up  an  old 
Mexican  saddle  tree  with  pommel,  stirrups  and  cinch,  but 
no  skirts  or  covering,  and  with  an  old,  soft  gunny  sack 
for  a  blanket.  And  an  old,  plain  bit  that  I  found  I  fixed 
to  my  bridle  myself.  All  these  things  I  had  to  do  right 
along,  until  now  I  got  a  regular  bridle. 

I  think  Salvador  had  first  come  to  Five  Oaks  with  the 
Chinese  hop  pickers  and  bean  pickers,  and  had  lived  with 
them  at  their  camp,  and  I  had  seen  him  there,  but  had 
forgotten  him.  When  he  came  again,  I  remembered  hav- 
ing seen  him  before.  I  have  never  been  able  to  make  clear 
to  myself  what  he  came  back  to  our  place  for.  At  times  I 
have  thought  he  was  one  of  a  gang  of  horse  thieves  that 
operated  far  away  South,  taking  horses  over  the  Sierra 
into  the  State  of  Nevada,  that  he  was  in  hiding  now,  and 
that  Hants  was  not  without  some  knowledge  of  this  and 
had  some  former  acquaintance  with  him.  Certainly  Hants 
was  not  altogether  satisfied  to  have  him  around,  nor  to 
have  me  go  out  with  him.  He  hesitated  considerably  to 
give  his  consent  when  I  told  him  that  Salvador  had  offered 
to  teach  me  some  cowboy's  horseman  tricks.  -\nd  gener- 
ally he  was  always  ready  with  his  consent,  never  denying 
me  anything  I  asked  leave  to  do  unless  he  had  good 
reasons. 

Salvador  spoke  exceedingly  good  English,  although 
there  was  apparently  not  a  drop  of  any  but  Californian- 
Indian  blood  in  him,  and  that  of  the  very  darkest  kind. 
When  I  shut  my  eyes,  I  see  him  yet,  tall,  spare  and  lank, 
stiff,  upright  on  his  horse,  but  moving  as  easy  with  the 
horse  as  if  the  two  were  one.  His  horse  was  a  beautiful 
half-breed  mare  that  he  could  do  almost  anything  with, 
and  she  was  as  attached  to  him  as  I  have  never  known 
any  other  animal  to  be  to  any  man. 

When  he  was  drunk,  the  mare  took  care  of  him  like  a 

2b2 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

human  being.    One  such  time  I  recollect  when  he  had  slid 
out  of  the  saddle  and  lay  on  the  ground  unable  to  rise  and 
in  that  stage  of  drunkenness  that  he  would  not  let  me 
help  him.    The  mare  with  her  teeth  took  hold  oi  the  collar 
of  his  coat  at  the  neck,  lifted  him  up,  stood  him  up  agamst 
the  fence,  and  then  came  to  his  side,  stooping  sideways  to 
lower  the  saddle  to  near  the  ground,  for  him  to  mount 
And  when  he  fell  in  the  attempt,  lifting  him  up  again  and 
again,  always  stepping  and  moving  with  the  greatest  care 
not  to  step  on  him  or  hurt  him,  turning  at  last  to  me 
as  if  in  despair,  nudging  me  with  her  nose  as  if  to  tell 
me  to  help  her.    When  finally  he  was  m  the  saddle,  the 
mare  went  off  balancing  him  with  the  most  painstaking, 
eager  exertion,  meeting  the  swaying  and  lurching  of  his 
body  at  every  step ;  she  sweating,  wet  all  over  and  treni- 
bling  in  every  muscle  with  nervous  fear  lest  he  vhoiild  fall. 
If  he  was  too  drunk  to  move,  she  would  stay  with  him 
till  he  came  to  or  till  assistance  came.    If  he  had  fallen  to 
lie  in  a  road  or  trail,  or  any  place  of  danger,  she  would 
draw  him  aside  out  of  harm's  way,  and  then  stand  guard 
over  him.    Once,  when  he  had  fallen  and  badly  Inirt  him- 
self and  lav  insensible,  she  had  gone  for  help  to  a  ranch, 
distant  several  hours'  fast  travel.     I  often  wished  her  to 
be  mine     But  she  did  not  care  for  me  nor  anyone  but  her 
master ;  and  he  was  not  so  very  fond  of  her,  not  at  least 
to  show  it.    Certainly  he  never  abused  her,  as  he  was.  all 
in  all.  rather  good-natured.     Only  in   liquor  he  a  ways 
was  a  little  uglv.    .\nd  he  was  often  in  liquor     He  always 
carried  a  flask  of  some  kind  or  other  of  liquor  in  his 
pocket,  wherever  he  got  it.     And  he  turned  more  ugly 
e^-erv  time  at  my  refusal  to  drink,  as  though  it  were  an 
insult     But  I  had  such  a  horror  of  liquor,  probably  from 
my  drugging.  1  could  not  have  forced  myself  to  taste  it- 
The  smell  alone  sickened  me. 

The  first  time  Salvador  took  me  up  to  higher  points  on 
the  ranges,  back  north  of  Five  Oaks,  how  strange  it  was 

263 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

to  see  the  shape  of  the  country  changing  at  every  step! 
How  flat  tiie  lower  hills  came  to  look,  branching  and  twist- 
ing every  way.  Five  Oaks  was  nothing  but  a  low  knoll, 
detached  from  the  other  hill-land,  and  pushed  forward  to 
the  south,  out  all  by  itself  into  the  big  valley,  and  the 
bottom-land  going  round  it  like  a  dried-up  lagoon. 

Below  us,  winding  in  and  out  among  the  hills  was  a 
road.  We  had  crossed  it  where  it  skirted  our  bottom- 
land and  I  had  suspected  it  to  be  the  road  leading  by  the 
thicket  where  Hants  had  found  me.  Now,  from  above 
I  could  plainly  make  it  out.  It  was  the  same  road  and 
no  other,  where  that  strange  man  had  come  down  with 
his  companion  in  the  buggy  and  had  gone  by  the  place 
where  I  lay  hiding  in  the  wooded  patch.  I  could  not 
see  where  the  road  came  from,  nor  where  it  led  to.  It 
lost  itself  in  the  swell  of  the  hills.  It  had  no  connec- 
tion with  Five  Oaks,  only  at  the  thicket  where  I  had 
lain  hiding.  It  ran  along  our  bottom-land  for  a  distance, 
and  there  was  in  our  side-fence  an  accommodation-gate 
to  a  trail  leading  along  our  bean-field  over  to  where  our 
road  to  Fairlies  came  down  the  hill. 

West  of  Five  Oaks  the  road  curved  round  the  next 
spur  of  hill  and  where  a  group  of  live-oaks  stood  crown- 
ing a  bluif.  Beyond  that  it  was  not  visible,  but  Salvador 
told  me  that  right  there  under  that  bluff  it  connected 
with  the  road  to  the  river-landing,  and  he  pointed  out  to 
me  the  directions  in  which  Sacramento  lay  and  San 
Francisco,  the  big,  rich  city. 

We  never  went  on  any  roads,  we  just  went  over  the 
hills,  rising  higher  and  higher  to  the  north.  They  were 
pretty  much  all  alike,  swelling  and  sloping  to  all  sides, 
mostly  bare  but  with  bush-overgrown,  rocky  outcrop- 
pings  in  many  places  and  with  little  gulches,  notches, 
sinkholes  filled  with  scrubby  copses  and  larger  woods, 
the  drab-colored  ground  hard  and  dry  and  full  of  count- 
less   little   cracks,    covered   with    sun-dried   grass    of   a 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

brownish  tinge  all  of  a  dirty  lifelessness.  The  hills 
gradually  changed  to  bolder  heights  with  sharper  ridges, 
where  farther  away  tall  timbers  stood  in  patches,  more 
and  more  crowding  together  into  the  broad  forest-belt, 
sweeping  round  to  the  East,  with  the  peaks  of  the  high 
mountain-chain  overtopping  it. 

These  hills  were  the  cattle-ranges  of  the  Boss  at  Foun- 
tain Head. 

I  think  here  Salvador  had  his  camp,  where  he  slept  and 
got  his  meals-  But  I  never  saw^  the  place.  Perhaps 
he  had  something  to  do  with  these  cattle.  He  acted 
sometimes  as  if  he  might.  Once  in  a  while  he  would 
throw  a  young  steer  to  show  me  how  it  was  done  and 
how  to  use  the  lariat  for  that  purpose.  I  came  to  know 
how  to  throw  the  lariat  pretty  well. 

Another  thing  he  taught  me  was  to  play  monte  and 
poker.  We  would  play  on  horseback,  the  horses  stand- 
ing head  by  side,  the  lariats  coiled  round  pommel  and 
pommel,  and  he  holding  his  broad-brimmed  hat  to  play 
the  cards  on.  Playing  that  way  in  the  shade  of  some 
tree  he  would  stay  all  day  if  he  could,  hanging  and  lying 
on  the  horse,  one  leg  drawn  up  and  half  thrown  over ; 
the  other  slipped  down. 

Yet  another  thing  he  taught  me  was  to  smoke  cigar- 
ettes. But  when  France  came  to  find  that  out  which  he 
did  very  soon,  because,  of  course,  no  secret  was  made 
of  it  by  me,  he  made  such  a  fuss  that  he  broke  me  of  it 
and  for  good.  And  he  took  the  opportunity  of  abridging 
my  time  for  horseback  exercises,  which  began  to  inter- 
fere with  my  lessons,  too.  I  always  liked  my  horse- 
back trips  very  much,  but  not  indeed  for  being  away 
from  home.  I  always  liked  being  home  and  at  work, 
too.  And  the  best  part  of  the  trips  was  perhaps  always 
the  coming  back  home.  Now  Salvador  could  not  get 
me  to  go  very  far  with  him  any  more.  He  tried  to  sev- 
eral times  and  when  I  turned  back  sneered  at  me  for 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

minding,  calling  me  *'a  coward  and  a  slave."  I  told  him 
"that  nothing  he  could  call  me  and  nothing  at  all  would 
make  me  do  different  from  what  my  men  told  me  to  do, 
and  that  I  was  not  afraid  of  him." 

Once  he  told  me  there  was  a  man  far  down  South,  a 
rich  man,  owning  many  thousand  head  of  cattle,  who 
wanted  just  such  a  boy  as  I. 

Another  time  he  told  me  if  we  were  in  San  Francisco 
he  could  get  me  a  place  at  the  race-courses  as  jockey, 
riding  races,  where  I  could  make  lots  of  money  and  wear 
beautiful  clothes,  all  silk  and  satin,  showing  me  a  colored 
print  of  a  boy  dressed  in  shiny,  pink  knee-breeches,  green 
blouse  with  pink  sleeves  and  green  cap,  looking  very 
pretty  on  a  lean  horse- 
After  that  I  do  not  remember  him  any  more. 


August. 

Yesterday  I  earned  very  fair  wages  and  had  entertain- 
ment in  the  bargain. 

I  went  again  to  that  colony  of  small  dwellings  where 
the  day  before  I  had  worked.  The  two  places  next 
to  that  one  were  unoccupied,  the  following  one  I 
wanted  to  pass  by  because  there  were  signs  of  disorder 
about  it  which  I  did  not  like,  but  I  changed  my  mind, 
went  up  to  the  door  and  rang  the  bell.  A  very  young 
and  pretty  but  most  slovenly  dressed — I  should  say  half- 
dressed  woman  or  girl  came  to  the  door  and  I  asked 
her  if  the  folks  wanted  somebody  to  put  the  little  front- 
yard  in  shape. 

She  laughed,  showing  very  fine,  white  and  even  teeth 
and  called,  "Joe!  Joe!  Here  is  a  man  who  wants  to 
know  if  the  folks  want  the  garden  fixed.  You  must  be 
the  folks,  so  you  better  show  up." 

Someone  from  some  rear  room  called  back,  "What  is 

266 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

it  dearie?"  A  door  was  opened  and  a  very  young  man, 
not  much  older  than  the  girl,  appeared  and  stumbling 
and  falling  over  some  unpacked  drawers  and  boxes  and 
different  other  things  covering  the  whole  floor  of  the 
entrance-hallway,  plunged  into  my  arms,  whereat  the 
girl  set  up  a  peal  of  laughter  and  cried,  ''Everybody 
stumbles  over  those  drawers.  Last  week  papa  nearly 
broke  his  neck.  I  laughed  till  I  was  not  able  to  stir. 
Did  you  get  hurt,  dearie?" 

"No,  darling,"  answered  the  young  man,  "but  if  this 
man  had  not  caught  me,  I  might  have  got  hurt  badly. 
Are  you  the  man  ?  What  did  you  want  ?  Fix  the  garden  ? 
Can  you  do  nothing  but  gardening?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  can  do  almost  everything  I  am  paid  for." 

"Oh!  Well,  I  think  you  are  the  man  w^e  have  been 
waiting  for.  We  want  somebody  to  help  us  fix  up  the 
house.  You  won't  charge  more  than  a  couple  of  dollars, 
will  you  ?" 

I  looked  round,  rather  dubiously  I  think,  because  he 
raised  his  offer  himself,  a  dollar  and  another  dollar, 
before  I  spoke.  The  carpets  were  laid  and  the  kitchen- 
stove  had  been  put  up  and  the  hot-water  boiler  and  water- 
back  connected,  but  everything  else  was  in  a  state  of  con- 
fusion and  disorder  not  to  be  imagined. 

"You  may  do  what  you  like,"  here  spoke  up  the  young 
woman  in  a  complaining  w^ay,  as  if  somebody  had  been 
trying  to  injure  her,  "but  I  am  going  to  have  my  break- 
fast before  everything  is  upset-     Joe!     I  don't  care." 

"All  right  dearest,"  answered  Mr.  Joe.  "I  did  not  have 
mine  yet  late  as  it  is,  two  hours  since  I  got  up.  Have 
you  had  your  breakfast?"  he  asked,  turning  to  me.  I 
told  him  I  had. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "have  a  cup  of  coft'ee.  My  wife 
makes  very  good  coffee.  We  will  all  go  in  the  kitchen 
and  have  some  breakfast,  then  we  can  work  better. 
That  will  do  for  lunch.     Come  in  Mister." 

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CHRONICLES  OP  MANUEL  ALANUS 

''Come  in,"  added  Mrs.  Joe.  ''Come  right  in.  Look 
out  for  those  things.  It  makes  me  laugh  every  time  I 
think  of  papa,  how  he  stumbled  and  shot  by  me  into  the 
kitchen  and  just  missed  hitting  the  stove  with  his  head. 
How  do  you  like  the  place?  I  think  it  is  real  nice. 
That  is  the  parlor.  You  see  the  rosewood  piano?  Do 
you  play  the  piano?  Oh,  just  go  in  and  try  it-  Look 
out!  There  are  some  flowerpots  under  that  blanket. 
Play  something!  Please!  Oh,  do!  Just  anything! 
Well,  you  can  play  something  afterwards.  Oh,  Joe! 
What  are  vou  doing?  What  did  you  let  the  fire  go  out 
for?" 

"I  did  not  let  the  fire  go  out,  it  went  out  of  itself," 
returned  Mr.  Joe.  "I  think  I  will  light  the  gas.  Shall 
I  light  the  gas  sweetie?" 

"All  right,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Joe  and  went  on  talking 
to  me  while  he  put  the  water  on  to  boil  in  a  saucepan  over 
a  gas  cooking-arrangement  on  one  side  of  the  stove." 
Sit  down  Mister.  What  is  your  name?  Oh  I  like  that 
name.  I  always  have  liked  that  name.  Just  take  those 
things  off  that  chair.  Tliey  are  the  parlor-windows'  cur- 
tains on  their  poles.  We  did  not  take  them  off  the  poles. 
We  only  moved  in  three  weeks  ago.  Oh,  dear !  I  tore 
my  dress  this  morning.  Look  what  a  gash !  Well,  I 
was  to  get  a  new  wrapper  anyhow.  Oh,  put  those  things 
anywhere.  Open  that  door!  Yes,  that  is  the  pantry- 
Put  them  in  there.  Is  that  water  boiling  yet,  Joe  ?  Dear 
me!  there  is  baby  awake.  Don't  bother  Mr.  Manuel! 
Well,  she  is  right  there,  right  in  that  heap  of  things. 
Be  careful !  You  might  fall.  There  she  is  behind  those 
pillows  and  pots.  We  just  put  her  down  there.  Her 
crib  is  not  put  up  yet.  It  is  in  the  cellar.  We  only 
moved  in  three  weeks  ago.  Don't  take  her  up  Mr. 
Manuel !  She  is  all  wet.  I  can't  put  her  dry  now.  This 
afternoon  she  has  to  be  dressed  anyhow.  She  is  going 
out  with  my  mother. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

The  baby  was  the  prettiest,  most  good-natured  little 
thing,  not  more  than  half  a  year  old.  It  laughed  at  me 
and  reached  out  the  hands  to  me  and  did  not  cry  when 
I,  heeding  the  mother's  advice,  did  not  take  it  up  but 
went  away  to  begin  at  some  point  with  putting  things 
to  rights,  as  soon  as  breakfast,  or  lunch  had  been  par- 
taken of- 

If  it  had  not  been  so  amusing  it  would  have  been 
aggravating.  Neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Joe  had  any  idea 
how  the  things  should  be  placed,  how  they  wanted  them 
placed,  at  which  room  or  point  to  commence  with  plac- 
ing them.  Nor  did  they  care  in  the  very  least.  And  he 
was  otherwise  rational  and  circumspect  enough,  what- 
ever she  was.  He  had  taken  this  day  off  to  work  at 
getting  the  furniture  put  in  place.  I  found  he  held  quite 
a  responsible  position  as  manager  of  a  large  Office  Fur- 
niture Company.  They  would  both  sit  and  talk  about 
anything  and  everything,  any  outside  question,  arguing, 
fooling,  telling  stories,  gossip,  talk  to  the  baby  and  make 
not  one  move  to  get  out  of  what  was  to  me,  a  perfectly  un- 
endurable, chaotic  state. 

Some  things  were  almost  ludicrous  enough  to  have  been 
invented.  The  only  door  to  the  dining  room  opened 
out  of  the  kitchen.  A  lot  of  furniture  having  been  put 
into  this  dining  room,  carelessly  piled  piece  on  piece, 
something  had  slipped,  falling  against  the  door  on  the 
inside,  shutting  it  and  keeping  it  closed,  so  that  nobody 
could  get  into  that  room.  And  they  had  lived  that  way 
since  they  had  occupied  the  house,  cooking  and  eating 
with  pans  and  dishes,  plates,  knives,  forks,  spoons  bor- 
rowed from  neighbors,  their  own  dining  room  ware  and 
kitchen  utensils  being  shut  in  with  the  other  things  in 
the  self -closed  dining  room. 

"But  why  do  you  not  get  in?"  I  asked. 

''You  can  not,"  answered  both. 

"From  the  outside,"  I  suggested. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"The  sashes  are  locked." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Well,  we  have  no  ladder/'  said  Mr-  Joe,  as  if  ad- 
mitting something  he  would  rather  have  kept  dark,  but 
which  settled  the  question. 

"It  is  no  use  trying  to  open  the  door  because  the 
lounge  has  fallen  dead  against  it,"  he  resumed. 

"The  sideboard,  lovie,"  interposed  Mrs.  Joe. 

"No,  sweetness,  the  lounge." 

"Dearie,  I  know  it  is  the  sideboard." 

"My  darling,  I  put  my  hand  round  the  edge  of  the 
door,  and  I  felt  the  plush  of  the  lounge." 

"Let  us  try  to  move  it,"  I  interrupted  them.  "If  you 
could  get  your  hand  round  the  door  that  far,  maybe 
we  can  get  the  door  back  more  yet  and  get  in."  And  I 
made  the  attempt,  but  found  that  indeed  the  lounge,  or 
the  sideboard  or  something  held  the  door  so  securely  that 
]  did  not  dare  to  force  it,  till  1  had  tried  to  get  into  the 
room  by  way  of  the  window.  For  this  I  had  to  go  and 
borrow  a  ladder  from  the  neigbhbors  across  the  street, 
whose  whole  family  turned  out  to  watch  my  proceed- 
ings. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joe  likewise  came  out  into  the  street 
in  front  of  their  house  to  watch  my  trying  to  get  in  at  the 
side  window,  other  neighbors  came  to  their  windows,  a 
milk-wagon  and  a  grocery's  delivery-team  drew  up; 
passers-by  stopped,  everyone  was  gasping  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Joe  had  to  give  their  explanation  of  the  origin  of 
the  trouble  to  everybody.  Luckily  the  sash  of  one  of  the 
two  dining  room  windows  was  not  locked,  and  after 
seeing  me  raise  the  sash  and  enter  the  room,  the  crowd 
dispersed. 

I  did  not  open  the  door  of  the  room  right  away,  but 
locked  it,  the  key  being  in  the  lock,  and  set  myself  to 
work  to  put  the  furniture  in  place,  even  the  dishes  and 
table-linen  and  the  crockery  into  the  closet  and  sideboard 
before  I  let  Mr-  and  Mrs.  Joe  come  into  the  room. 

270 


CHRONICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALAXUS 

Next  I  went  to  work  in  the  kitchen  and  pantry,  urging 
Mrs.  Joe  to  wash  the  borrowed  things  and  put  them  to 
one  side  for  deHvery.  When  ^Ir.  Joe  saw  me  getting  on 
to  putting  up  the  beds,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  down 
to  his  business  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  but  it  took  more 
than  one  hour  before  he  got  out  of  the  house.  Talking, 
arguing,  all  to  no  purpose,  fooling,  loitering.  He  offered 
to  pay  me  before  leaving,  but  1  told  him  I  should  cer- 
tainly not  have  finished  before  he  would  be  back,  when 
he  immediately  insisted  on  my  promising  that  I  would 
under  no  consideration  go  away  before  he  came  back, 
but  would  stay  and  have  dinner   with   them. 

After  he  was  gone,  I  got  on  with  my  work  much  better. 
Mrs.  Joe  w'as  not  so  much  of  a  hindrance.  And  be- 
sides she  had  the  telephone  to  entertain  her.  Half  the 
time,  fully.  J  should  say,  she  was  at  the  telephone  in 
the  kitchen,  talking  to  friends,  to  her  husband  too,  or 
listening  to  other  people's  talk  on  the  line.  The  rest 
of  the  time  she  would  follow-  me  about,  stand  in  the  door- 
ways of  the  rooms  I  was  working  in.  sometimes  talk- 
ing, sometimes  merely  looking  on,  the  baby  on  her  arm 
with  its  wondering  eyes  fixed  on  me.  smiling  back  when- 
ever I  smiled  at  it. 

She  had  been  married  two  years,  she  told  me  and  her 
wedding-day  had  been  her  eighteenth  birthday.  She 
would  ask  questions  and  go  on  talking  like  a  child.  And 
indeed  w^hat  was  she  but  a  child  I 

"Do  you  know  Amelia  Whitcome?  I  thought  you 
might.  Her  mother  keeps  a  notion-store  on  Hayes  Street. 
She  used  to  go  to  school  with  me.  Why  no!  Not  the 
mother!  She  is  a  very  nice  girl-  Last  Saturday  we  went 
to  the  matinee  together.  I  took  baby  over  to  mama  and 
left  her  there  till  afterwards.  We  had  a  fine  time.  Oh, 
we  had  such  fun.  T  laughed.  One  of  the  ushers,  the 
long-haired  one  had  a  feather  sticking  in  his  hair,  a  white 
feather.     Hee !     Hee !     Somebody  had  stuck  it  in  and  he 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

did  not  know  it  at  all.  No!  We  laughed!  Amelia 
just  shrieked.  Do  you  like  the  ushers  at  the  Grand  better 
or  at  the  Central  ?    I  think  they  are  too  fresh  altogether." 

Every  now  and  then  she  would  drop  into  her  queru- 
lous way  of  talking :  "Oh,  dear !  I  ought  to  dress. 
Mama  will  be  mad  if  I  am  not  dressed  when  she  comes. 
But  who  can  dress  with  all  this  work  adoing.  And  this 
child  is  so  heavy,  too." 

I  was  at  the  last  bedroom  when  the  mother  came,  a 
neat  and  comfortable  looking,  bustling  little  body. 

"Oh,  you  have  a  man  working,"  she  exclaimed.  "But 
is  not  that  expensive?     No?" 

"Now,  mama,"  complained  Mrs.  Joe,  "all  the  time  you 
have  been  scolding  us  about  our  not  getting  fixed  up, 
and  now  you  scold  because  we  are." 

"I  am  not  at  all  scolding,"  contradicted  the  mother, 
raising  her  voice-  "I  am  only  thinking.  The  expense! 
What  do  you  pay  him  now?    Hm!     Not!     No!" 

"I  don't  know,  mama.  Joe  has  settled  it  with  the  man. 
You  can  ask  him.    I  won't." 

"Ask  him?  When  Joe  has  settled  it  with  him,  how 
would  it  look  to  ask  him?" 

"Well  I  don't  care.  He  is  all  right.  Here  is  baby  all 
dressed.     I  wish  I  could  go  along." 

"But  you  could  not  go  along.  I  don't  care  if  the  man 
is  all  right,  somebody  must  stay  in  the  house  to  watch." 

She  had  taken  off  her  gloves  as  soon  as  she  had  en- 
tered the  house,  and  while  she  was  talking  she  was 
going  round  the  kitchen,  picking  up  and  putting  away  the 
clothes  Mrs.  Joe  had  taken  off  the  baby  for  the  wash- 
ing and  redressing  of  it  and  had  dropped  and  left  lying  on 
the  floor  all  about.  And  seeing  this  I  could  rightly  form 
the  idea  that  the  very  tidiness  of  the  mother  was  greatly 
to  blame  for  the  slatterliness  of  the  daughter.  Not  the 
tidiness  in  itself  of  course,  but  the  lack  of  judgment  in 
the  practising  of  it:  doing  herself  what  she  ought  to  let 

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CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  daughter  do,  make  her  do,  what  indeed  long  since 
she  ought  to  have  taught  the  daughter  to  do,  increasing 
instead  of  lessening  the  evil,  as  if  in  removing  the  evi- 
dence of  slovenliness  she  did  away  with  the  slovenliness 
itself. 

Good  nature  might  have  much  to  do  with  it.  She 
seemed  good-natured.  And  she  evidently  was  fond  of 
her  daughter  and  the  baby.  She  was  yisibly  glad  when 
she  received  the  little  one  in  her  arms- 

"Oh,  the  dear  little  girl,"  she  cried,  "will  she  go  with 
grandma  now,  and  is  she  going  to  stay  with  grandma 
all  night?  I  do  not  think  Joe  should  pay  more  than  two 
dollars  at  the  most.  Well,  all  right!  Perhaps!  Not! 
No!" 

All  her  speeches  were  made  loud  enough  for  me  to 
hear,  especially  her  parting  injunction  to  Mrs.  Joe  to 
keep  an  eye  on  me.  But  Mrs.  Joe  paid  no  attention 
to  that.  As  soon  as  the  mother  was  gone,  she  said  she 
was  going  to  the  neighbors  to  return  the  borrowed  things. 
I  asked  her  to  stay  in  the  house  to  see  that  I  arranged 
everything  to  suit  her.  With  more  sensibility  than  I 
should  ever  have  given  her  credit  for  she  said,  blushing 
as  she  spoke,  "Oh,  Mr.  Manuel  you  must  not  mind  any- 
thing mama  says.  She  is  only  contrary.  Now  if  I 
should  but  just  have  said  anything,  putting  on  you  know. 
that  I  did  not  trust  you,  she  would  have  flown  right  up 
in  my  face,  taking  your  part.  And  then  she  is  a  little 
deaf,  vvhich  makes  her  speak  louder  than  she  knov/s." 

I  told  her  I  was  much  obliged  to  her  for  her  regard 
for  my  feelings,  but  if  it  was  not  too  disagreeable  to  her, 
I  should  be  still  more  obliged  to  her  if  she  would  stay  in 
the  house  and  for  my  own  protection.  For  if  after- 
wards anything  should  be  missing,  would  she  not  be 
liable  to  think  I  took  it.  She  gave  a  laugh,  saying:  "If 
we  should  be  blaming  every  missing  article  of  ours  on 

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someone   coming    into    our    house,    there   would    not   be 
people  enough,  that  we  know,  to  go  round." 

She  remained  in  the  house  however.  After  a  while 
she  went  into  her  bedroom  "to  fix  up,"  as  she  expressed 
herself.  When  she  appeared  again,  she  looked  clean, 
her  hair  was  neatly  made,  she  had  on  a  new  gown,  and 
there  was  about  her  an  air  of  consciousness  of  improve- 
ment that  pleased  while  it  amused,  like  a  dressed  up  little 
girl-  She  set  herself  to  work  to  begin  preparations  for 
dinner.  And  I  noticed  again  that  she  was  very  clean 
in  her  cooking,  although  maybe  very  wasteful,  and  very 
careless  as  to  the  cleaning  up  afterwards. 

Since  I  had  begun  to  like  her,  I  liked  her  more,  I 
suppose  it  was  a  sort  of  fraternal  feeling  gaining  ground 
in  me.  But  no!  My  brotherly  feelings  all  belong  to 
Harry.  And  yet  it  is,  no  doubt,  the  working  of  the 
fraternal  instinct,  if  there  is  such  a  thing. 

I  was  through  with  my  w^ork.  I  had  gone  through  all 
the  rooms  again  and  halls  and  closets  for  a  last  glance. 
I  had  set  the  table  in  the  dining  room  and  had  carried 
away  the  ste]^l adder  and  the  other  borrowed  articles  to  the 
different  neighbors,  fetching  back  from  one  of  them  some 
green  stuff"  and  three  very  fine  roses  on  a  long  branch. 
Of  the  roses  Mrs.  Joe  took  one:  the  other  two  on  the 
branch  with  the  other  green  I  put  in  a  long  glass  on  the 
dining  table.  I  had  overhauled  all  the  gas-fixtures, 
cleaned,  put  on  and  changed  the  globes  to  suit  and  lit 
the  gas.  "It  looked  like  Christmas,"  said  Mrs.  Joe,  as 
she  put  the  rose  in  her  hair. 

Mr.  Joe  came  just  little  enough  late  to  be  and  feel 
doubly  welcome,  and  with  all  the  expression  of  wonder 
and  satisfaction  at  the  transformation  of  his  house  that 
I  could  wish  for  and  his  wife  could  try  to  second,  and 
with  more  satisfaction  than  I  had  expected  at  the  changed 
appearance  of  his  wife,  with  which  I  fancied  him  dis- 
posed  to   credit   me   as   well.      With   equal   satisfaction, 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

seemingly,  he  paid  me  and  we  sat  down  to  dinner  which 
proved  Mrs.  Joe  to  be  a  very  good  cook,  and  after 
dinner  then,  I  had  to  play  for  them  on  the  piano. 

I  had  tried  to  make  the  cleaning  up  and  washing  up 
after  dinner  a  joint-stock  affair,  claiming  I  wanted  to 
leave  the  house  in  an  orderly  condition,  every  part.  But 
I  had  failed.  The  dining  table  as  it  stood,  remained  set 
with  all  the  remnants  of  the  dinner  in  all  the  dishes, 
plates,  cups  and  glasses.  And  it  probably  is  in  that  con- 
dition yet. 

After  playing  a  few  popular  airs  and  dances  I  ex- 
cused myself.  In  fact  I  was  so  tired,  I  can  not  remember 
any  time  that  I  was  more  so.  But  I  had  to  return  to  the 
piano  three,  four  times  before  I  could  make  my  escape. 

This  morning  I  again  visited  that  colony  and  met  with 
another  mother  and  daughter.  It  was  rather  late.  I 
had  gone  by  Mr.  DeLang's  place  and  seeing  the  ground 
look  rather  dry  had  given  the  garden  a  watering.  Some- 
body will  steal  that  water-hose  there  some  day,  lying 
as  it  does  openly  by  the  steps  all  the  time.  It  ought  to  be 
put  away.  And  then  I  must  be  given  a  key  to  what- 
ever place  it  is  put  in,  to  be  able  to  get  at  it  when  I  want 
to  vise  it,  or  it  will  not  be  very  long  before  my  agreement 
with  Mr.  DeLang  for  watering  the  garden  is  broken,  if 
Mrs.  DeLang  is  going  to  be  so  constantly  absent  from 
home-  She  seems  not  to  have  been  back  since  Satur- 
day. I  wonder  how  Mr.  DeLang  can  put  up  with  that. 
I  think,  sweet  and  fascinating  as  she  is,  I  should  prefer 
even  childish  Mrs.  Joe  for  a  wife.  What  are  to  him 
house  and  home,  domestic  habits,  well  earned  means  of 
comfortable  living,  all? 

I  presume  though  the  last,  or  rather  the  first  cause  is 
the  want  of  children. 

At  the  colony  I  walked  up  the  cross-street  to  the  last 
row  of  houses,  where  in  front  of  the  first  one  of  them  a 
rather  smiling  lady,  no  longer  very  young,  was  sprink- 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ling  the  little  front  yard  with  a  small,  rubber  hose  and 
sprinkler,  and  I  asked  if  she  would  not  let  me  do  that 
job  for  her. 

She  proved  to  be  very  talkative;  so  much  so  that  in 
less  than  ten  minutes  I  had  become  possessed  of  all  the 
salient  points  of  her  life's  history;  and  it  was  funny  as 
well  as  slightly  embarrassing  to  have  her  tell  me  things 
as  though  she  were  only  speaking  of  what  I  already 
well  knew.  First  of  all,  however,  she  offered  to  give  me 
twenty  cents  to  water  that  garden  for  her,  and  when  I 
gladly  accepted  the  offer,  told  me  to  take  the  hose,  quick, 
or  her  arm  would  break  the  next  second,  from  holding 
it.  Then,  when  I  was  sprinkling  the  newly  sprouting 
grass,  she  remained  by  my  side,  talking  fast  and  un- 
ceasingly, making  me  think  that  I  had  principally  been 
paid  to  listen,  feeling  at  least  like  an  engaged  listener. 

''Her  name  is  Mrs.  Woodelin.  She  is  a  divorced  wom- 
an, deserted  by  her  hsuband  from  whom  she  has  since 
been  divorced,  left  with  three  children,  one  boy  and  two 
girls,  supporting  them  and  herself  by  giving  music  les- 
sons, vocal  and  instrumental,  doing  very  well  indeed, 
boarding  with  her  stepmother.  She  is  likewise  her  aunt, 
having  been  married  to  her  father's  brother  after  her 
father's  death,  and  who  is  also  a  divorced  woman  as 
well  as  a  widow,  twice  divorced  and  once  widowed.  She 
owns  that  house  they  live  in,  but  she  was  not  at  home 
then,  having  gone  down-town  to  fetch  some  photographs 
taken  of  Mrs.  Woodelin's  children,  the  week  before.  She 
might  return  soon,  and  she  might  engage  me  to  fix  the 
rear  garden." 

At  this  instant  Mrs.  Woodelin  cried,  "Why,  here  she  is. 
Billie!  Bill!  Ella!  William!  Here  is  grandma,"  and 
she  ran  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  after  the  children,  I 
supposed,  leaving  me  to  face  a  stout,  somewhat  under- 
sized and  considerably  overdressed  lady  with  bright  red 
hair,  who  came  marching  up  to  the  house  from  the  front 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

gate  at  the  street-corner,  stopping  when  near  me  as  if  for 
an  explanation,  which  I  gave,  I  am  afraid,  quite  humbly, 
not  feehng  altogether  sure  of  my  lady's  temper-  My 
humility  was  effective.  She  became  gracious  and  almost 
as  talkative  as  her  stepdaughter.  She  took  me  to  the 
back  part  of  the  lot  to  show  me  the  rear  garden,  which 
had  been  manured  and  partly  planted  with  flowers  and 
shrubs,  and  for  the  completion  of  which  work  she  bar- 
gained with  me  for  some  time.  Or,  I  can  not  call  it 
bargaining,  since  I  had  nothing  to  say  about  it,  and 
hardly  could  tell  what  it  was  all  about,  till  I  understood 
from  her,  that  I  had  agreed  to  finish  the  rear  garden 
for  ten  dollars  and  charge  nothing  for  what  I  had  done 
so  far. 

I  had  not  yet  received  all  my  instructions,  when  Mrs. 
Woodelin  joined  us  with  two  children,  a  small  frail  and 
pale  looking  boy  with  a  narrow  head  and  a  long  neck 
and  a  still  smaller  and  paler  girl.  An  older  girl  was 
spoken  of  as  being  at  school. 

The  talk  of  the  two  ladies  now  became  a  sort  of  race, 
till  they  both  at  once  recollected  the  photographs  which 
the  grandmother  produced  out  of  her  handbag.  It 
amused  me  that  the  little  girl  should  know  her  picture 
to  be  hers  immediately  and  without  any  prompting,  where- 
as the  boy,  although  certainly  two  years  older  than  she, 
had  not  the  least  idea  whom  his  photograph,  that  really 
was  a  good  likeness,  meant  to  represent.  He  looked  at  it 
long  and  suspiciously,  and  at  last  turning  to  his  mother, 
said  sternly,  as  if  she  certainly  should  know  about  this : 
"Mama,  that  boy  has  got  my  clothes  on,"  frowning  still 
more  at  my  laughing  loud.  Upon  the  ladies  now  going 
indoors,  I  started  my  work,  but  was  soon  called  in  by  the 
older  lady,  whose  name  is  Mrs.  Jackson,  to  join  them  at 
their  lunch. 

A  gentleman  of  half  clerical  looks  was  one  of  the  party. 
I  was   not  introduced  to  him.     I   fancied  him  to  be  a 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

preacher  of  some  small  congregation  at  a  neighboring 
chapel  of  some  religious  denomination,  probably  a  roomer 
in  the  house  and  possibly  an  admirer  of  Mrs.  Woodelin, 
although  at  times  he  was  as  attentive  to  the  other  lady 
as  to  her.  And  indeed  I  thought  the  other  as  favorably 
disposed  to  marry  again  as  the  first-  And  for  some  rea- 
sons she  might  be  preferable.  She  appears  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  more  property  than  that  house.  She,  too,  viras 
the  one  to  do  the  work  and  prepare  the  lunch,  while  Mrs. 
Woodelin  was  entertaining  the  clerical  gentleman  in  the 
parlor  and  I  was  trying  to  get  the  children  to  talk  to  me 
in  the  second  or  dining  parlor,  where  the  table  was  set. 

The  rolling  doors  between  the  two  parlors  were  open. 
The  clerical  gentleman  was  reading  to  Mrs.  Woodelin, 
something  out  of  a  book  he  had  picked  up  from  the 
center  table.  He  was  saying:  ''Now  this  is  very  fine. 
'Moonlight  in  the  Mountains.'  "  And  he  read  it  with  taste 
and  expression.  It  described  the  awakening  of  the  poet, 
Ic'te  at  night,  or  early  in  the  morning  and  looking  out  on 
the  wet,  white  roofs  of  the  village  between  the  dark 
trees  and  glistening  rocks,  with  the  full  moon  down,  low 
in  the  west,  reversing  all  the  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
early  night,  making  all  the  familiar  things  strange. 

"How  very  true!"  commented  the  gentleman.  "You 
have  no  doubt  observed  the  like  yourself ;  or  you  can 
imagine  it,  if  you  have  not  noticed  it  on  any  clear  morn- 
ing of  the  full  moon." 

Mrs.  Woodelin  did  not  know  that  she  had  ever  per- 
ceived anything  of  the  kind,  as  she  had  never  been  in  the 
mountains. 

"The  moon  in  the  west,"  explained  he.  "You  know 
the  full  moon  rises  in  the  east.  When  she  is  in  the 
west  the  lights  and  shadows  of  the  early  night,  the  even- 
ing you  know,  are  reversed,  and  that  makes  everything 
appear  unfamiliar." 

Mrs.   Woodelin   remarked   ''that  sometimes  the  moon 

2y^ 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

was  clear  and  sometimes  not  clear.  But  it  might  not  be 
so  in  the  mountains." 

The  gentleman  closed  his  eyes  as  though  visions  of 
brightness  were  dazzling  him ;  but  he  made  another  effort. 

"Have  you  never  awakened,  anywhere  where  you 
lived,"  he  asked,  'Very  early  in  the  morning,  before 
dawn,  of  course,  when  the  full  moon  turns  down  westerly, 
and  noticed  how  different  everything  looks  compared 
to  how  it  looked  in  the  moonlight  of  the  evening  before? 
turned  round  like?  because  the  light  comes  now  from 
the  other  side;  and  unfamiliar,  because  we  are  so  much 
more  accustomed  to  the  evening  moonlight  from  this 
side." 

"No,"  replied  the  lady,  "I  always  sleep  very  sound 
towards  morning.  And,  you  know,  we  used  to  live  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street." 

The  gentleman  had  nothing  more  to  say  on  this  point, 
and  I  was  rather  astonished  that  he  did  not  abstain  from 
all  further  reading  of  poetry.  He  made  a  second  trial, 
he  read  another  few  verses,  giving  a  most  excellent  de- 
scription of  rain  in  the  country,  or  rather,  a  sudden 
summer  shower  in  a  village.  And  he  read  this  better 
yet  if  anything  than  the  first  piece,  making  every  point 
tell. 

"Is  it  not  admirably  given?"  he  asked.  "Only  that 
we  have,  of  course  no  rain  in  summer  in  California," 
he  added  quickly,  afraid,  I  suppose  that  Mrs.  Woodelin 
would  raise  this  objection.  And  he  repeated  the  read- 
ing and  wanted  her  to  say  that  it  was  exquisitely  done; 
but  she  hesitated,  till  she  finally  rejoined:  "Well,  you 
know  I  don't  like  rainy  weather." 

But  the  great  surprise  of  the  day  and  many  days  was, 
after  the  petty  lunch  was  over,  what  Mrs.  Jackson  called 
"our  meal,"  the  singing  of  Mrs.  Woodelin.  The  clerical 
gentleman  had  asked  her  to  sing.     We  remained  seated 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

at  the  taBle   while   she  went  to  the  open  piano  in  the 
front  parlor. 

At  the  first  note  I  forgot  myself  and  all  surroundings. 

A  woman,  not  bright,  not  charming,  in  no  way  impres- 
sionable, without  sensibility  to  a  degree,  with  a  poor 
presence,  an  awkwardness  of  manner,  no  trace  of 
emotion!  All  this  I  would  let  pass,  but  that  her  voice 
should  in  speaking  be,  if  not  coarse,  what  is  worse : 
ordinary,  flat,  expressionless,  without  any  indication  of 
any  feeling  wdiatever,  and  that  yet  she  should  have  the 
power,  as  she  sang  one  bar  to  move  me  so  deeply! 

The  sympathetic  quality  of  her  voice,  her  singing  voice ; 
that  is  it. 

August. 

I  worked  the  whole  day  at  Mrs.  Jackson's  and  finished 
my  job  this  night.  She  expressed  herself  as  more  than 
pleased  with  my  work  and  invited  me  to  call.  Were  I 
more  conceited  I  might  think  that  even  I  as  a  suitor 
should  not  be  unwelcome. 

All  day  long  Mrs.  Woodelin's  singing  has  been  in  my 
ears,  in  my  heart.  Perhaps  it  was  well  she  was  out  giv- 
ing lessons  and  1  did  not  hear  her  sing  again  to  increase 
the  spell.  And  yet  1  wished  for  it  all  day-  Certainly  I 
have  not  heard  singing  of  any  appreciable  kind  for  so 
long,  this  may  well  affect  me.  But  I  know  of  other  times 
when  such  quality  of  voice  aft'ected  me  the  same  way. 
That  lady  at  Fountain  Head,  the  boss's  lady !  How  many 
days  w^as  I  not  under  the  spell  of  her  voice  when  I  had 
heard  her  sing  that  day  of  my  trip  to  Fountahi  Head  with 
Hants  to  visit  the  boss,  my  first  visit!  I  think  I  can 
recall  the  impression  to  this  day,  this  hour.  The  whole 
day.  Something  unreal  clings  to  it,  as  there  is  about  those 
days,  occurring,  I  reckon,  in  every  child's  life  and  remem- 
bered as  having  been  spent  in  something  like  fairyland. 

It  w^as  between  the  time  of  Salvador's  leaving  and  the 
first  rains.     I  know  it  had  not  rained  any  yet  at  the  time 

280 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

of  that  trip,  although  it  was  very  late  in  the  season.  The 
first  rain  of  the  season  must  have  fallen  very  shortly  after- 
wards. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday.  I  had  known  that  Hants  was 
going  to  see  the  Boss.  He  had  lately  been  going  to  see 
him  quite  regularly  Sundays.  But  it  was  only  on  the  day 
before,  while  clipping  my  hair,  that  France  told  me  that 
I  was  to  go  along. 

It  was  a  terrible  strain  to  have  to  sit  still  after  this  till 
the  hair  clipping  was  done  and  I  could  get  away  and  jump 
with  the  gladness  in  me  and  run  to  where  Hants  was 
mending  and  tiring  some  wheels  at  the  forge  shed. 

"Well,  brother  Dick,"  he  called,  "what  is  tickling  you 
so  wonderfully  this  evening?" 

"I  am  going  to  Fountain  Head  with  you  to-morrow." 

"You  are?"    And  who  says  so?" 

"Mr.  France  told  me" 

"He  did  ?    And  what  does  he  know  about  it  ?" 

"You  told  him." 

"I  did.    How  do  you  know  ?" 

"Mr.  France  said  so." 

"Oh,  it  is  all  Mr.  France,  is  it?  He  told  and  he  said. 
Suppose  now  I  say  no?" 

That  was  his  way  of  fooling.  I  shook  my  head.  He 
was  smiling  to  himself.  "And  is  that  what  makes  you 
glad  to  dance  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  am  glad  to  go  with  you,"  I  answered,  which  was 
very  true.  But  I  could  not  tell  him,  for  I  do  not  think  I 
knew  enough  myself  to  but  suspect  all  the  reasons  of  the 
glad  anticipations  of  this  trip  alive  in  my  mind.  Not 
alone  the  outing  on  horseback  with  him  who  was  always 
such  good  company,  bright,  good-humored  and  merry,  but 
also  the  seeing  of  strange  parts.  And  our  Boss!  Our 
great  man  of  all  that  part  of  the  country,  and  his  beautiful 
place,  I  always  heard  my  men  talk  so  much  about.  Per- 
haps the  best  of  all,  the  wearing  of  my  knee  breeches  and 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

sweater,  which  so  far  I  had  only  put  on  and  admired  my- 
self in,  a  few  times  in  secret ! 

I  was  up  next  morning  long  before  the  sun,  and  done 
with  all  the  morning's  work.  I  believe  I  had  slept  but 
little  that  night.  It  was  a  warm,  dewless  morning,  and 
it  would  be  a  warm  day-  When  the  smell  of  the  laurels 
came  up  the  gulch  so  strong,  the  day  was  sure  to  be  warm. 

I  had  the  horses  cleaned  and  saddled  much  earlier  than 
necessary,  and  when  I  had  bathed  and  washed  and  dressed 
myself  and  appeared  before  France  for  inspection  at  the 
breakfast  table,  I  was  duly  reprimanded  for  my  impati- 
ence and  vanity.  I  had  myself  almost  blushed  to  think 
I  looked  so  fine.  The  sweater  was  in  broad,  even  bands  of 
gray  and  red-brown,  just  suiting  the  peculiar  gray  of  the 
knee  breeches  and  the  gray  of  the  hat  with  its  black,  silk 
ribband.  To  be  sure,  I  had  to  wear  my  boots,  as  I  had  no 
stockings,  although  it  was  the  proper  thing  to  wear  high 
shoes  and  long  stockings  with  knee  breeches,  like  boys  in 
the  city.  And  all  the  clothes  fitted  a  little  tight  for  a  fact. 
And  the  breeches  were  not  only  tight  but  short  as  well, 
exposing  my  knees  and  leaving  between  the  hem  of  the 
breeches  and  the  tops  of  the  boots  quite  a  width  of  bare 
skin  visible.  France,  indeed,  for  a  minute  or  two,  consid- 
ered if  it  would  not  be  better  for  me  to  wear  overalls, 
and  the  suspense  while  it  lasted  was  nearly  unbearable. 
To  wear  overalls,  when  even  the  best  ones  were  washed 
out  and  discolored,  never  mind  how  much  I  scrubbed 
them,  would,  I  felt,  take  away  half  my  pleasure.  But  I 
was  allowed  to  go  dressed  as  I  was,  with  no  alteration, 
except  the  turning  down  of  the  neckband  of  my  sweater, 
and  with  only  a  double  amount  of  admonitions  as  to  re- 
spectful behavior,  proper  manners,  attention  and  obedi- 
ence. 

"The  old  woman  is  mighty  particular  this  morning," 
said  Hants  as  soon  as  we  were  out  of  earshot.  "Now,  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  think  you  should  do.     But  don't  you 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

do  it  if  you  don't  want  to.  For  you  have  as  good  a  right 
to  suit  yourself  as  anybody.  Take  off  your  jersey  and 
ride  in  your  undershirt.  When  we  get  to  Fountain  Head 
take  off  your  undershirt  and  put  on  your  jersey  or  sweater, 
as  you  call  it.  Then  you  won't  be  so  warm  and  you  won't 
get  so  wet  and  dirty.  For  you  may  think  a  sweater  very 
pretty,  but  it  is  a  beast  of  a  thing  to  catch  dust  and  hold 
it-  Wait  till  I  help  you.  Now,  wrap  the  sweater  well  in 
the  cantle  leather.    Tie  it  well." 

He  was  in  great  spirits.  He  had  dressed  with  a  good 
deal  more  care  than  he  usually  did.  He  generally  did 
when  he  went  to  Fountain  Head.  He  looked  very  well,  in 
spite  of  the  red  of  the  sunburn  on  his  face  and  neck.  He 
plucked  a  sprig  of  green  from  a  bush  and  stuck  it  in  his 
hatband  and  gave  me  one  to  do  the  same,  and  he  set  out 
to  sing,  which  he  would  constantly  attempt  with  no  voice 
and  no  ear  for  music  at  all,  always  ending  in  calling  on  me 
to  sing  for  him.  So  now  he  told  me  to  sing  a  little  Ger- 
man country  song,  which  France  had  sort  of  translated 
and  made  up  in  Spanish  to  suit  the  tune,  and  had  made  me 
learn  the  words  and  the  air  of  only  a  few  days  ago,  a 
beautiful  little  melody. 

That  was  what  Hants  liked.  For  he  was  fond  of  music, 
if  without  any  sense  of  it.  He  would  try  to  sing  along 
with  me,  gently  swaying  his  head  and  uttering  uncertain 
sounds  till  they  went  beyond  him  altogether,  and  he 
laughed  and  gave  it  up,  and  commenced  again. 

"Was  not  the  morning  beautiful,"  he  said.  "The 
trouble  was  in  California  the  weather  was  too  fine,  fine  all 
the  time."  And  how  plainly  do  I  remember  the  sensation 
of  that  morning!  The  gentle  westerly  breeze  of  summer, 
tliat  would  spring  up  daily  in  the  forenoon  and  last  till 
sundown,  had  ceased  to  blow  for  weeks  now,  everything 
was  standing  motionless  under  the  hazy  sky,  silently 
awaiting  the  rain.    And  this  day  a  softer  touch  was  in  the 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

air  and  the  mountains  looked  clearer  and  nearer :  '*a  sure 
sign  that  it  was  going  to  rain,"  Hants  said. 

We  had  gone  on  the  road  down  the  hill  alongside  our 
gulch  where  the  road  went  on  to  Fairlies.  I  had  always 
had  the  idea  that  to  get  to  Fountain  Head  we  should 
have  to  keep  to  this  road  to  Fairlies  at  least  part  of  the 
way,  if  not  all,  and  turn  up  into  the  farther  hills.  But  at 
the  hop-yard  Hants  had  taken  the  trail  leading  past  the 
bean-field  to  the  narrow  accommodation  gate  in  the  fence 
not  far  from  the  thicket,  where  I  had  been  lying  hiding 
when  Hants  picked  me  up-  And  when  we  had  got  through 
this  gate  we  had  turned  up  the  road  where  I  had  that 
time  seen  the  buggy  come  down  with  that  strange  man  in 
it  and  his  companion,  and  go  by  me. 

It  was  always  most  remarkable  how  quick  Hants  was 
of  perception  and  discernment.  I  was  not  in  the  least  con- 
scious that  I  hesitated,  hung  back,  or  gave  any  sign  of 
uneasiness,  trepidation,  or  that  there  was  any  change 
whatever  in  my  deportment,  only  in  my  thoughts  and 
feeling.  Yet  it  must  have  been,  for  as  soon  as  we  were 
through  the  gate  and  turning  to  the  right  he  called : 

"What  is  wrong?" 

I  said  I  had  never  gone  up  this  road  before. 

"Well,"  he  returned,  "who  said  you  had?  What  is 
wrong  with  it  ?" 

"I  had  not  known  that  this  road  was  the  road  to  Foun- 
tain Head,"  I  answered. 

He  deliberated  quite  a  few  minutes,  eyeing  me  as  he 
would  eye  people  when  he  wanted  to  find  out  something 
of  them.  Then  he  started  in  to  tell  me  with  a  great  deal 
of  minuteness  that  "this  road  was  a  new  road,  built  some 
years  ago  by  the  Boss  from  Fountain  Head  down  to  the 
big  valley,  to  connect  with  the  road  coming  up  from  the 
river,  from  the  steamboat  landing  in  the  river.  Before 
this  new  road  had  been  built,  the  way  to  get  from  Foun- 
tain Head  to  the  river  had  been  a  very  roundabout  one, 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

going  from  Fountain  Head  first  northerly  through  the 
heavy  woods  and  canyons  of  the  upper  foothills,  then  by 
some  old,  now  deserted  mining  ground  over  a  big  broad- 
backed  mountain,  called  the  Elephant's  Rump,  or  short, 
the  Rump,  turning  southerly,  going  along  the  hillsides 
down  to  the  point  v/here  the  road  from  the  river  landing 
struck  the  hills.  And  that  point  was  the  same  point  where 
the  new  road,  the  road  we  were  on,  went  down  to  and  met 
the  river  road." 

"Don't  you  know  that  point?"  questioned  he.  "Did 
you  never  go  round  that  way  with  Salvador  ?" 

I  told  him  "No,  but  Salvador  had  told  me  where  the 
road  turned  off,  going  to  the  river  through  the  big  val- 
ley ;  there  was  a  bluff  there  with  some  oaks." 

"That  is  the  spot,"  he  exclaimed.  "That  is  the  place 
where  the  three  roads  meet.  There  is  a  spring  there  and 
a  place  to  water  horses.  The  old  mountain  road  is  no 
more  in  use  now,  except  for  cordwood  teaming.  Some 
Qiinese  and  Japanese  woodchoppers'  camps  are  in  the 
woods  near  the  abandoned  mines  below  the  Rump.  And 
from  there  the  wood  is  hauled  to  the  river  landing  for  the 
steamers.  But  the  old  North  road  is  not  in  bad  condition 
at  all-  And,  if  you  like,  some  Sunday  when  we  have  more 
time,  I  will  take  you  over  that  road.  We  can  go  right 
round  from  where  we  are,  down  to  the  watering  spring, 
up  on  the  hills,  over  the  Rump,  by  the  old  mines  and  the 
woodchoppers'  camps,  through  the  woods  to  Fountain 
Head  and  to  this,  the  point  of  beginning,  clean  round. 
That  would  be  a  nice,  long  ride.  And  we  can  stop  at  one 
of  the  woodchopper's  camps,  so  that  you  can  see  what 
that  is  like.  You  might  have  to  work  in  the  timber  one 
of  these  days.  But  I  forgot,  you  don't  like  Chinese  and 
Japanese,  do  you?  You  did  not  go  near  those  that  were 
picking  our  beans  and  hops,  did  you?  You  don't  like 
them,  do  you?" 

He  gave  his  head  a  wag  and  laughed,  keeping  his  eyes 

28s 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

fixed  on  mine.  He  laughed  again  and  again,  till,  being  on 
that  fateful  road  and  knowing  him  to  be  suspecting  some- 
thing of  what  was  going  on  in  me,  he  had  me  feeling  pretty 
uncomfortable;  that  being  just  what  he  wanted,  I  knew 
very  well. 

The  way  then  to  do  was  not  to  let  on.  So  by  not  avoid- 
ing the  subject  and  feigning  indifference,  asking  casually 
about  timber,  cordwood  and  other  things,  I  soon  had  put 
other  ideas  in  his  head.  Not  that  you  always  could  tell, 
if  you  had  succeeded.  For  he  might  be  talking  and  jok- 
ing and  drawing  you  out  all  the  time  without  your  know- 
ing it.  Only  when  you  had  got  him  to  talk  of  himself 
you  could  be  rather  sure  that  you  had  turned  his  observa- 
tion and  mind  from  you.  He  liked  it  so  much  that  gener- 
ally it  was  easy  to  get  him  started,  and  after  he  was  well 
started  it  was  not  necessary  to  do  anything  but  listen. 

Very  soon  now  I  had  him  talking  of  his  life's  adven- 
tures, many  of  which  I  certainly  had  heard  him  tell  before, 
but  which  I  always  with  no  feigned  interest  heard  him 
tell  again.  For  he  told  them  very  well.  I  could  just  see 
him  in  my  mind,  exactly  as  he  was,  in  all  his  undertakings 
and  experiences.  He  told  stories  too  and  adventures  of 
others  very  well.  And  he  could  give  advice,  if  he  wanted 
to,  good  advice,  practical :  how  to  do  and  how  not  to  do 
to  get  in  with  people,  get  work,  make  a  living,  get  on, 
lay  by  and  employ  money. 

He  had  his  grievances,  too.  And  this  day  was  the  first 
occasion  he  took  to  relate  to  me  in  detail  the  abusive  treat- 
ment from  an  older  brother  and  sister,  he  had  when  a  boy 
been  subjected  to.  And  with  such  bitterness  did  he  re- 
count it,  he  seemed  almost  transformed  for  me  into  an- 
other man  for  the  moment.  He  felt  that  himself,  I  fan- 
cied, for  he  charged  me  to  stop  him  when  he  would  speak 
of  this. 

''Stop  me,"  he  cried.  "Tell  me  I  must  stop.  It  only 
hurts  myself.     It  does  not  hurt  them.    It  is  the  injustice 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

that  galls ;  it  turns  all  my  blood  to  bile  when  I  think  of  it. 
If  I  kept  on  talking  and  thinking  of  it  all  the  time  it  would 
kill  me.  And  I  won't  die.  Not  yet !  I  am  going  to  get 
even  with  them  first,  some  day.  They  ill-treated  me  till 
they  had  all  feeling  knocked  out  of  me ;  and  when  they 
found  they  could  not  make  me  any  unhappier,  they 
shipped  me  off  to  sea  with  a  captain  they  knew  to  be  a 
brutal  beast  of  a  tyrant,  for  him  to  do  it.  Only  he  could 
not-  Unhappy!  Was  it  not  happiness  to  be  away  from 
them  r 

I  felt  very  sorry  for  him :  but  he  certainly  was  not 
unhappy.  He  might  have  been,  I  think,  in  spite  of  his 
great,  good  spirits,  if  his  nature  had  not  been  lacking  in 
tenderness. 

When  I  think  of  him  now  and  try  to  make  him  out, 
with  a  feeling  for  him,  almost  as  warm  as  the  one  with 
which  I  regard  Mahon  I  can  not  recollect  one  single  in- 
stance of  his  showing  anything  that  could  be  called 
tenderness  or  fondness.  He  wanted  to  see  all  animals 
well  treated,  yet  he  had  no  real  feeling  for  them.  It 
was  a  sort  of  principle  with  him.  So,  too,  I  certainly 
had  to  work  hard,  and  my  willingness  made  me  liable 
to  be  overworked.  He  always  watched  and  looked  out 
that  I  was  not  taxed  beyond  my  strength  and  ability ; 
and  so  he  would  see  me  well  fed,  sufficiently  clothed, 
given  all  possible  freedom  and  in  no  way  imposed  upon. 
But  I  never  felt  myself  personally  liked  by  him,  v/ith 
the  sole  exception  of  the  instance  of  this  day  of  this 
trip.  I  did  not  believe,  if  I  should,  say,  die  or  be  lost 
that  he  would  be  sorry,  real  sorry,  any  more  than  he  ever 
showed  compassion  when  anybody  hurt  himself. 

Sympathy,  I  take  it,  was  the  right  word  of  what  he 
was  deficient  in.  Everything  seemed  with  him  to  be  a 
matter  of  understanding  only,  not  of  feeling.  And  as 
to  me  it  appears  that  in  order  to  understand  a  feeling 
we  must  feel  it,  I  should  say  that  while  he  declared  that 

287 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANVS 

all  feeling  had  been  knocked  out  of  him,  when  a  boy, 
it  was  the  other  way;  all  feeling  he  possessed  had  been 
knocked  into  him,  and  whatever  considerations  for  other? 
he  now  showed  was  the  result  of  the  treatment  he  had 
experienced  in  boyhood  after  his  father's  death. 

His  mother  had  been  French-Canadian,  his  father  a 
Pennsylvanian,  of  German  descent,  what  is  commonly 
called  a  Pennsylvanian  Dutchman,  a  rancher  or  farmer, 
a  man  of  education  and  standing,  but  not  of  great  means. 
Hants  had  obtained  a  good  education  and  had  lived  a 
happy  homelife  up  to  the  time  his  father  and  mother  had 
died  in  quick  succession.  Then  his  twice  as  old  half- 
brother  and  half-sister  had  soon  made  life  at  home  un- 
bearable to  him  and  finally  had  driven  him  to  go  to  sea. 

On  his  first  voyage  from  Philadelphia  to  Liverpool,  he 
had  been  cast  away  on  the  Irish  coats  and  badly  hurt  in 
the  wreck,  but  taken  care  of  and  nursed  back  to  health 
in  a  poor  Irish  family.  And  that  always  made  him  praise 
the  Irish  people.  Indeed  he  had  in  that  time  acquired 
some  of  their  way  of  talking  as  well  as  of  their  manner, 
so  that  he  was  often  taken  for  an  Irishman,  which  never 
failed  to  please  him. 

On  his  recovery  he  had  shipped  and  gone  to  Australia 
in  an  English  ship  as  ordinary  seaman,  getting  good 
wages.  But  he  had  never  liked  the  sea,  and  so  he  had 
left  the  vessel  in  Australia,  staying  ashore  there  for  all  of 
two  years,  working  at  anything  he  could  get  to  do  along 
shore,  at  squatter  stations,  in  mines,  too.  He  always 
regretted  he  had  not  remained  in  Australia,  which  he 
called  "the  country  of  freehandedness  and  sport."  Once 
he  had  got  in  with  sporting  people  altogether  and  had 
taken  up  professional  boxing.  But  after  that  he  had 
come  to  California  where  he  had  remained  ever  since 
and  where  he  had  tried  almost  everything  he  could  lay 
his  hands  to,  to  get  ahead,  mostly  farming  and  mining. 
Somewhere  he  had   fallen  in  with   France,  an   old  Ger- 

288 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

man  school  master  of  finished  training  as  of  good  breed- 
ing, honesty  and  purity  of  mind,  who  had  for  some  rea- 
son left  his  native  country  and  come  his  way  to  these 
parts  of  the  world.  They  had  worked  together  and 
been  partners  in  mining  claims,  till  having  no  luck  and 
no  luck,  they  had  made  up  their  minds  to  give  up  min- 
ing for  good  and  try  farming  for  themselves,  on  shares. 
And  they  were  now  so  trying  it.  He  did  not  know  what 
would  come  of  it. 

"He  always  had  the  conviction,"  Hants  concluded, 
''that  he  was  going  to  become  rich  yet;  one  way  or  an- 
other.   Then  he  would  go  home." 

The  sister  sometimes  wrote  to  him;  once  or  twice  a 
year.  I  think  she  wrote  for  money.  And  I  believe  he 
sent  her  some  money  whenever  she  wrote  for  it.  The 
brother  was  not  a  good  manager.  The  family  place 
or  farm,  somewhere  in  Southern  Pennsylvania  was  so 
heavily  mortgaged  they  would  have  to  give  it  up  before 
long,  leaving  them  penniless. 

"Yes!"  cried  Hants,  "I  shall  go  back  with  money, 
plenty  of  money.  And  I  shall  buy  the  mortgages.  That 
will  take  but  a  small  part  of  my  money.  And  when  all 
is  mine,  I  shall  invite  my  brother  and  sister  to  come 
and  stay  there.  And  I  shall  tell  them,  'When  I  was  a 
young  boy  you  ill-treated  me :  you  took  away  my  rights, 
you  took  away  every  better  feeling,  all  faith,  all  sense 
of  justice,  everything;  and  then  you  cast  me  out;  now 
I  give  you  this  place  of  mine  to  be  yours,  free  of  all 
encumbrance,  for  you  to  live  here  to  enjoy  yourselves  at 
your  ease  and  comfort  all  your  lives  in  return  for  what 
you  did  to  me.  Not  because  I  love  you,  but  because  I 
hate  you  and  despise  you,  and  of  knowing  that  if  you 
were  not  the  things  you  are,  you  would  starve  rather 
than  receive  sustenance  at  my  hands !  And  when  I  have 
told  them  that  I  shall  go  away,  never  to  see  them  again. 
For  if  I  stay  there  it  will  only  be  of  ill  consequence  to 

289 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

myself.  I  like  to  be  a  little  mean,  just  mean  enough, 
but  not  enough  to  make  it  react  on  myself  and  spoil 
what  I  am." 

We  had  gone,  keeping  the  horses  at  a  walk,  slowly 
all  the  while  up-hill,  taking  some  trails  by  the  side  of 
the  wagon-road,  that  were  not  dusty.  We  had  come  to  a 
higher,  narrow  ridge,  along  which  the  road  ran  straight 
and  nearly  level.  From  the  ridge-road  the  hill-side 
fell  to  the  outside  abruptly  down  to  where  in  the  depth 
was  the  green  of  a  creek.  The  opposite  hills  were  low 
and  flattish ;  over  them  the  valley  spread  out,  extend- 
ing to  the  mountains,  the  farthest  peaks  showing  above 
the  level  as  above  the  horizon  of  the  ocean. 

At  the  ending  of  the  level  ridge  the  road  turned  round 
a  stony  butte  into  a  sort  of  pass,  where  we  could  see 
behind  us  our  open  country  of  the  rounding  hills,  with 
beyond  the  great  inland  valley  of  California,  and  ahead 
of  us  at  once  another  country  of  deep  defiles  and  gulches, 
divided  by  ridges  with  rocky  breaks  and  spurs  and  cliffs 
gradually  rising  to  greater  heights,  all  grown  with  trees 
and  bushes  and  fields  of  bright,  green  chaparral ;  above  the 
crowding  pines,  the  peaks  and  crests  of  mountains. 

Some  of  the  peaks  I  thought  I  had  seen  before.  But 
I  could  not  tell.  I  hardly  knew  what  I  saw.  It  was  all 
different.  But  yet  I  knew  this  was  the  country  I  had 
seen  from  the  other,  the  upper  end,  from  the  top  of  the 
broad-backed  mountain  I  had  been  on  in  the  buggy. 
Somewhere  below  here  between  all  these  ridges  and  rocky 
hill-chains  before  us  must  be  the  canyon  I  had  come  down. 

We  were  riding  fast  now  to  keep  ahead  of  the  dust 
of  the  road  which  was  dug  off  the  hillside  to  a  good 
width  and  an  easy  grade,  gently  rising,  winding  in  and 
out  along  the  slope,  meeting  all  the  little  dry  ravines 
and  gulches  and  stony  twistings  of  the  ground.  At  one 
place  where  it  almost  doubled  on  itself  a  spring  came 
down  the  ravine  and  there  all  was  rank  vegetation  under 

290 


CHRONICLES  OP  MAXUEL  ALANUS 

the  crowded  trees.  I  smelled  tlie  pines  in  the  heat.  And 
suddenly  I  heard  the  hammering  of  the  woodpecker  and 
the  cooing  of  the  dove  and  for  the  first  time  again  the 
noise  of  the  surf  in  the  tops  of  the  pines. 

We  passed  many  more  springs.  Hants  explained  to 
me  that  it  was  on  account  of  the  many  springs  that  the 
place  was  called  Fountain  Head.  This  whole  section  of 
the  slope,  he  said,  was  full  of  live  springs,  and  the  Boss 
was  using  many  of  them  for  irrigating. 

"Now  we  ought  to  be  able  to  see  Fountain  Head,"  he- 
exclaimed.  ''Yes,  there  it  is,"  pointing  to  a  thick  clump 
of  green  under  a  knob  on  the  mountainside,  grown  with 
tall  timber  in  a  bunch.  It  was  rather  farther  away  than 
I  had  expected.  But  much  farther  away,  above  it,  bulg- 
ing out  over  the  distant  trees,  sharply  visible  against  the 
sky  lay  the  broad-backed  mountain  I  knew  so  well. 

"Yes!  That  is  the  Rump."  cried  Hants.  "You  are 
looking  right  at  it.  And  those  two  yellow  streaks  this 
side  are  stretches  of  the  old  North  road.  It  is  not  very 
far." 

Presently  we  came  to  clearings  changing  again  totally 
the  looks  of  the  country.  There  were  orchards,  vine- 
yards, fields,  plantations,  all  well  kept.  The  roads  were 
lined  with  young  walnut  and  chestnut  trees.  Fenced  off 
yards  began  to  show  themselves  and  buildings :  barns. 
Chinese  huts,  sheds  and  stables.  No  people  were  mov- 
ing about,  it  being  Sunday  :  I  suppose  they  were  all  in 
their  rooms. 

A  lot  of  dogs  came  rushing  at  us  as  we  entered  the 
large,  general  farm-yard,  but  they  gave  over  their  bark- 
ing and  became  quite  social  when  a  man  came  from  the 
upper  end  of  the  yard  and  spoke  to  them.  He  addressed 
Hants,  as  we  were  getting  ofiF  our  horses  and  looked 
rather  hard  at  me.  He  was  one  of  the  foremen  of  the 
place  I  afterwards  learned.  T  had  felt  sure  that  he  coulcl 
not  be  the  Boss.     He  went  away  again   shortly. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

In  the  farm-yard  stood  a  few  trees.  Some  of  the 
smaller  trees  had  been  sawed  off  and  the  stumps  left 
standing  to  serve  for  hitching  posts  or  some  such  pur- 
pose. Different  out-buildings  stood  on  both  sides  of  the 
yard.  At  the  upper  end  was  a  long,  one-story,  frame 
house  with  windows  and  battened  doors,  which  I  took  to 
be  the  dining  and  sleeping  place  of  the  white  help.  I 
saw  some  people  there.  It  looked  as  if  they  were  at 
dinner.  Back  of  this  building  rose  the  hillside  with  the 
round  knob  we  had  seen  from  the  road.  Two  little 
streams  of  water  came  from  there  and  dropped  into  a 
little  stone  pond  in  front  of  the  house  at  the  upper  end. 

The  lower  end  of  the  yard,  where  we  were,  was  closed 
across  by  a  high,  smooth-clipped,  dense  hedge  of  cedar 
and  cypress  with  two  solid  gates  in  it,  like  doors.  Be- 
hind this  hedge  was  the  big  garden  or  park  with  the 
dwelling  house  where  the  Boss  lived,  Hants  told  me. 
He  had  helped  me  to  change  my  clothes  and  pull  my 
sweater  on.  He  told  me  to  unsaddle  the  horses,  put 
them  in  the  corral  and  follow  him.  He  was  going  in  to 
the  Boss. 

Opposite  the  big  gate  by  which  we  had  entered  the 
yard  from  the  road  was  another  big  gate  and  close  to  it 
a  corral,  where  I  put  the  horses.  I  hung  around  there 
a  little  to  take  a  look  at  things,  outside  this  other  gate. 
It  opened  on  a  road  and  I  judged  that  that  was  the 
old  North  road  which  Hants  had  spoken  of.  It  did  not 
look  so  very  unused.  Quite  the  contrary!  A  large 
orange  orchard  bordered  one  side  of  it.  A  branch-road 
led  through  other  plantations  downhill,  turning  to  the 
right.  I  could  follow  it  where  in  the  lower  parts  it 
formed  the  border  of  what  seemed  to  me  must  be  the 
bottom  of  the  park  or  garden  of  the  Boss.  Fine  trees 
stood  there.  Behind  them  I  saw  the  branch-road  again, 
turning  more  to  the  right  on  rising  ground.  And  I 
thought  it  must  form  a  regular  bight  or  loop  round  the 

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park  and  connect  back  with  the  Five  Oaks  road  we  had 
come  on;  so  that  one  could  get  away  that  way.  We  had 
passed  when  we  came,  several  gates  and  side  roads ;  one 
of  them  might  be  this  branch-road. 

I  went  to  follow  Hants  through  the  gate  in  the  hedge, 
he  had  gone  in  at,  when  as  I  opened  it  from  the  outside, 
he  opened  it  from  the  inside,  coming  for  me. 

"What  keeps  you?"  he  called.  And  at  that  moment 
I  heard  a  voice  that  I  had  heard  before;  a  peculiar 
high-pitched  voice  and  a  squealy,  squeaky  laugh,  the 
voice  and  the  laugh  of  the  man  that  rode  in  the  buggy 
with  the  strange  man  when  they  passed  me  where  I  lay 
in  the  bush  by  the  road-side. 

'What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Hants,  stepping  out  to 
me,  shutting  the  door  after  him.  "What  ails  you?" 
I  don't  know  that  I  did  anything  but  just  stand  still. 
He  took  my  hand  and  held  it  close  in  his,  clasping 
my  wrist  with  the  other.  He  claimed  he  could,  not 
always,  but  very  often  tell  what  were  a  person's  thoughts, 
if  he  had  hold  of  a  person's  hand  that  way. 

"Now,  by  God,"  he  said,  "I  can  not  make  this  out. 
But  I  tell  you,  you  are  mistaken.  The  Boss  is.  not  the 
man.  He  can  not  be  the  man.  And  he  does  not  know 
you  at  all.  I  have  told  him  nothing  about  you.  Yes, 
I  told  him,  time  ago,  that  I  had  gotten  you  at  a  ranchery 
in  the  mountains  from  your  folks.  I  did  not  want  to 
tell  him  the  truth.  By  God,  if  I  had  known  this.  I 
should  have  never  brought  you  here  to  this  fix.  But 
it  is  too  late  now.  He  wanted  to  see  you,  and  I  told 
him  I  had  brought  you.  He  knows  you  are  here.  He 
wants  ^o  see  you.  You  will  have  to  brace  up  and  face 
it.  Face  it,  God  damn  it,  face  it  whatever  it  is!  It 
can  not  be  so  bad.  Nobody  is  there  but  the  Boss  and 
his  lady.  They  would  not  let  anybody  hurt  you  any 
more  than  I  would.  And  you  are  wrong,  I  tell  you, 
dead  wrong  about  him.     Hold  on  now!     I  won't  urge 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

you  by  another  word.  Make  your  fight  your  own  way 
and  I  will  help  you  all  I  can !  Do  what  you  want  to  do ! 
I  will  stand  by  you.  If  you  have  got  reasons  why  you 
don't  want  to  go  in  here,  don't  do  it!  I  don't  know 
what  you  have  done.  If  you  want  to  go  home,  get  on 
your  horse  and  go!  I  will  make  it  all  right.  I  will 
make  it  straight.  And  I  won't  give  you  away  neither. 
Nobody  shall  suspect  anything,  or  think  any  the  less  of 
you,  too.  But  if  you  can,  if  you  can  do  it,  if  you  can, 
face  it  now !  Then  it  will  be  over ;  and,  do  you  mind  ? 
You  will  have  to  face  it  some  time." 

I  knew  only  too  well  that  I  should  have  to  face  it 
some  time. 

He  let  go  my  hand.  He  opened  the  door.  T  walked 
ahead.  I  heard  the  door  shut  behind  me.  The  light 
of  day  turned  sickish  yellow ;  a  sort  of  humming  was 
in  my  ears.  I  felt  the  pain  between  my  eyes  I  had  felt 
that  time  on  the  mountain-bridge,  when  the  man  leveled 
his  gun  at  me. 

I  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  a  broad  flight  of  steps, 
leading  up  to  a  large  veranda.  At  the  top,  on  the  ve- 
randa stood  a  man  talking.  He  was  certainly  the  man  T 
had  seen  riding  with  that  strange  man  in  the  buggy ;  black- 
bearded,  square-shouldered,  talking  in  a  high-pitched 
voice,  laughing  with  a  squeal ;  only  I  should  have  thought, 
he  must  be  larger,  taller.    He  was  quite  short. 

He  was  the  Boss. 

I  could  not  say  what  it  was,  I  suppose  it  was  that  the 
climax  had  been  reached  and  passed,  but  as  soon  as  I 
actually  saw  and  stood  before  the  man,  I  felt  an  almost 
instantaneous  relief.  The  light  grew  whiter,  I  smelled 
the  odors  of  many  flowers,  I  heard  the  splashing  of 
water ;  flowering  shrubs  stood  all  around  ;  creepers  with 
beautiful  blossoms  were  growing  all  over  the  veranda 
and  covering  the  whole  front  of  the  house. 

Hants  was  standing  to  one  side  on  the  steps,  half-wav 

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up  between  the  Boss  and  me.     He  was  steadily  looking 
at  me. 

The  Boss  wanted  to  know  my  name. 

Hants  said  they  w-ere  calling  me  Dickie. 

"Oh,"  squeaked  the  Boss,  'that  is  a  bird's  name.  I 
have  a  canary  called  Dickie."  And  he  called  ''Dickie! 
Dickie!"  standing  on  one  foot  holding  up  his  hands  flat 
and  flapping  them,  making  a  noise  with  his  lips  and 
tongue,  half  whispering,  half  whistling. 

Then  he  wanted  to  know,  why  I  did  not  come  up  the 
steps;  was  I  afraid?  "No,"  answered  Hants;  "afraid  I 
was  not,  but  perhaps  I  did  not  come  up  on  the  veranda 
because  I  had  not  been  asked  to." 

On  this  the  Boss  seemed  to  be  a  little  struck  and 
for  a  moment  silenced,  when  he  quickly  called  to  me 
about  half  a  dozen  times  to  come  up,  and  ran  down  the 
steps  to  take  my  hand  and  lead  me  up  to  the  veranda, 
as  if  I  had  been  a  little  child. 

Hants  repeated,  that  I  was  not  afraid ;  he  would  say 
it  to  my  face ;  I  was  spunky  enough ;  only  at  times  I  was 
nervous. 

"Nonsense,"  crowed  the  Boss,  "who  had  ever  heard 
of  a  boy  like  me  being  nervous."  And  he  ran  his  finger 
in  my  side  to  tickle  me,  crying  "where  was  I  nervous, 
here,  or  there,  or  there?"  then  acting  as  though  he  had 
burnt  his  finger,  shaking  it  and  blowing  on  it,  and  again 
poking  it  in  my  side,  squeaking  to  see  me  twitch  and 
screeching  "Afraid!     Afraid!" 

I  had  more  than  once  heard  Hants  in  speaking  about 
the  Boss  say  that  he  always  wanted  to  act  the  clown. 
I  had  not  understood  that  before,  but  now  I  thought 
I  did.  I  looked  at  Hants,  who  lifted  his  left  shoulder 
at  me  for  an  answer  and  winked  his  eye. 

"Yes!"  reiterated  Hants  to  the  Boss,  "I  was  nervous. 
He  would  not  know  what  else  to  call  it.  And  also  I 
would  see  ghosts  sometimes  nights,  in  my  sleep." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

This,  now,  was  one  of  those  instances  of  covert  ob- 
servation with  which  Hants  not  seldom,  casually,  greatly 
surprised  me.  At  that  moment  it  did  not  so  much  affect 
me,  nor  perhaps  strike  me  as  so  very  strange,  occupied 
as  I  was  with  the  present.  But  how  came  he  to  know 
this?     He  must  have  been  watching  me  in  my  sleep. 

The  Boss  inquired  what  other  bad  points  there  were 
about  me,  and  Hants  told  him  that  one  very  bad  point 
about  me  was  that  I  never  would  cry  out  when  I  was 
being  hurt,  or  in  danger,  or  any  fix.  In  that  way  I  was 
a  regular  Indian, 

The  Boss  immediately  gave  a  war-whoop  and  stamped 
his  feet  to  imitate  an  Indian  war-dance.  "What  more," 
he  demanded. 

Well,  went  on  Hants,  I  could  do  some  tricks,  throw 
handsprings,  walk  on  my  hands  and  for  a  small  kid 
could  use  my  fists  pretty  well,  which  he,  too,  was  teach- 
ing me  himself  a  little,  now  and  then,  having  put  up  a 
bag  for  me  to  punch.  And  he  told  me  to  put  up  my 
hands ;  and  as  the  Boss  in  his  meant-to-be  funny  manner 
squared  off  against  me,  bending  down,  hopping  from  one 
foot  to  the  other.  Hants  made  signs  for  me  to  give  the 
Boss  a  good  punch  on  the  nose.  But  that  of  course  I 
would  not  do,  nor  anything  like  it. 

The  next  thing  I  had  to  do  was  to  go  through  my 
gymnastics.  Being  out  of  practice  I  did  not  succeed 
very  well  in  that,  till  I  recollected  a  trick  I  used  to 
know,  which  the  boys  on  the  old  wharf  used  to  call 
making  a  crab,  or  walking  like  a  crab.  It  was  to  lay 
yourself  down  flat  on  the  back,  with  arms  extended  up, 
straight  like  the  legs,  and  then  to  raise  the  body  off  the 
ground  on  hands  and  feet,  arching  over  fully  and  walk- 
ing that  way,  sideways  or  fore  and  aft,  jumping  up  with 
throwing  a  somersault  onto  your  feet. 

I  had  to  pull  off  my  boots  to  do  this,  but  I  did  it  all 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

right  and  I  was  glad  I  did  on  account  of  Hants.  It  was 
like  regaining  my  reputation. 

Getting  up  and  turning  round,  I  found  a  lady  standing 
behind  me.  She  must  be  the  lady  Hants  had  mentioned. 
She  was  darker  than  I.  The  darkness  of  the  skin  on  her 
arms  and  breast  showed  through  the  thin  stuff  of  her 
gown  of  pale  blue.  Her  hair,  black  and  glossy,  was 
parted  in  the  center  quite  plainly  and  hung  down  her 
back  in  two  long,  thick  braids  with  bows  of  pale,  blue 
satin  at  the  ends.  At  her  wrists  she  had  small  rosettes 
of  the  same  pale,  blue  satin,  and  a  large  rosette  of  the 
stuff  of  her  gown  was  fastened  under  her  left  ear  to  a 
pale,  blue,  satin  ribband  round  her  throat,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  rosette  stuck  a  dark,  red  rose.  The  pallor 
which  the  pale  blue  of  her  dress  gave  her  was  very  be- 
coming to  her,  and  the  dark  red  rose  just  finished  every- 
thing. As  she  stood  against  the  dusky  background  of 
the  matted,  creeping  plants  enclosing  the  veranda,  she 
was  a  picture  which  in  me  has  never  been  effaced,  al- 
though I  can  not  say  that  I  remember  her  features  or 
countenance,  only  her  mouth.  It  was  rather  large,  with 
fine  teeth  and  full  lips. 

They  were  all  speaking  Spanish  now,  which  I  found 
Hants  spoke  tolerably  well.  At  Five  Oaks,  in  opposition 
I  dare  say  to  old  France,  he  spoke  only  English.  That 
is  once  in  a  while  he  and  France  conversed  in  Ger- 
man, when  they  had  something  to  say  to  each  other  they 
did  not  want  me  to  understand.  I  knew  Hants  could 
speak  French  too,  and  I  had  thought  that  he  must  know 
some  Spanish. 

The  lady  appeared  very  glad  to  see  him.  I  noticed 
a  great  many  glances  and  smiles  pass  between  them. 

The  Boss  had  taken  her  by  the  elbows  behind,  and 
turned  her  towards  me.  He  wanted  to  romp  with  her. 
He  said  he  would  teach  her  to  walk  like  a  crab,  push- 
ing her  round,  making  believe  he  wanted  her  to  lay  her- 

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self  down  on  her  back,  telling  her  how  to  do  it.  And 
he  threw  himself  down,  as  though  he  had  fallen  in  throw- 
ing a  handspring.  She  was  a  little  vexed  at  this  silly 
business,  I  could  see.  The  Boss  had  torn  her  sleeve,  too. 
To  me  she  was  very  kind.  When  Hants  and  the  Boss 
wanted  to  have  me  go  through  my  gymnastics  again, 
she  forbade  it,  saying  I  was  heated  enough,  putting  the 
palms  of  her  cool  hands  to  the  sides  of  my  face,  lightly 
pressing  my  cheeks,  which  I  liked  very  much. 

The  Boss  had  gone  to  dress  for  dinner.  Hants  had 
told  me  to  go  and  sit  on  the  veranda  steps  and  look  at 
the  pictures  in  a  picture  book  he  had  fetched  out  from  a 
room  opening  on  the  veranda.  He  and  the  lady  had 
gone  away  together  along  the  veranda  round  the  corner 
of  the  house.  I  looked  at  the  pictures,  but  a  little  foun- 
tain, playing  in  a  little,  round  pond  right  in  front  of  the 
veranda  steps  drew  more  of  my  attention.  It  was  very 
pretty.  It  made  such  a  pretty,  splashing  sound.  I  had 
never  seen  anything  like  it.  I  knew  though  that  water 
out  of  a  pipe  would  squirt  up  quite  high. 

In  the  pond  were  little  fishes  with  golden-reddish 
scales.  I  had  heard  of  such  fishes.  How  natural  it  was 
to  see  fishes.    But  these  were  not  for  fishing. 

The  sun  was  very  warm.  There  was  no  breeze.  Bees 
were  humming  everywhere ;  flies  were  buzzing  and 
butterflies  were  tacking  about ;  many  hummingbirds  went 
whirring  by ;  dragonflies  and  moths  came  drifting  over 
the  plants.  The  ground  was  close-set  with  flowers  and 
shrubs  were  standing  so  crowded,  I  could  not  tell  them 
apart :  and  so  high,  I  could  look  over  only  the  nearest 
ones.  To  one  side  it  was  a  little  more  open,  where  a 
walk  came  up  from  lower  parts. 

After  a  long  time  the  Boss  came  back,  and  he  was  so 
nicely  dressed  I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  him.  He 
had  on  yellow  shoes  and  pale  blue  socks  with  brown  dots. 
And  so  was  his  shirt  pale  blue  with  brown  dots.     His 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

pants  and  coat  were  of  white  flannel  with  a  yellow  scarf. 
He  too,  wore  a  dark  red  rose  and  him,  too,  it  became 
very  well,  stuck  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  coat. 

As  I  was  looking  him  all  over  Hants  came  on  the 
veranda  round  the  house-corner.  He  laughed  out  loud 
and  shouted :  "Tliat  is  right.  Stand  still  and  let  the  boy 
take  you  all  in.  Now  he  is  happy.  That  is  what  he  likes. 
Fine  clothes."  And  till  he  had  spoken  I  never  knew  that 
that  was  very  true. 

A  Chinaman,  all  in  white,  came  and  told  us  that  dinner 
was  ready.  I  had  hurriedly  to  go  with  Hants  to  wash 
my  hands  and  fix  up,  in  the  bathroom,  which  was  a  very 
fine  room  with  lots  of  polished  things  in  it.  And  ad- 
joining it  was  a  bedroom  which  was  finer  still  with  a 
beautiful  large  bed  and  windows  with  red  curtains  down 
to  the  floor,  opening  on  to  the  veranda  w^here  it  came 
round  the  corner  of  the  house.  But  there  were  so  many 
fine  things  in  the  house  I  could  not  begin  to  see  them  all. 

In  the  dining  room  we  sat  at  a  round  table,  and  the 
Chinaman  was  handing  round  the  things.  I  remember 
how  the  Boss  put  his  fork  in  his  soup,  telling  me  to  do 
the  same,  because  that  was  the  proper  way  to  eat  soup. 

After  dinner  a  good  deal  more  took  place.  I  had  to 
read  out  of  some  books,  Spanish  and  English,  which  latter, 
Hants  interposed,  he  had  made  me  pick  up.  He  wanted 
to  show  off  with  me,  I  knew.  I  took  great  pains  to 
make  no  mistakes,  and  when  I  was  done  the  Boss  said 
I  should  keep  the  one  book,  which  was  the  picture-book 
T  had  looked  at  before.  I  thought  he  meant  for  me  to 
keep  the  book  to  look  at  the  pictures  till  we  went  away, 
and  I  liked  it  because  the  pictures  were  very  beautiful, 
and  some  were  funny.  But  presently  the  Boss  called  me 
to  let  the  book  be  and  come  with  him  through  the 
grounds.  Hants  had  told  him.  I  suppose,  that  T  knew 
something   of   gardening.      Probably    Hants   had   before 

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CHROXICLES  OF  MAMUIiL  ALAXUS 

this  talked  and  told  about  me,  even  if  nothing  more  than 
that. 

The  situation  of  the  place  was  very  fine.  The  ground 
went  in  slopes  and  terraces  to  the  bottom,  where  the 
narrow  road  I  had  seen  branching  off  the  north  road 
came  turning  back  through  orchards  and  formed  the 
border  of  the  park,  rising  again  to  the  south  along  a 
hedgerow.  At  the  bottom  the  Boss  had  staked  out  work 
enough  to  occupy  several  men  several  years.  And  here 
he  very  soon  had  me  working,  working  a  long  time  while 
he  was  standing  over  me,  acting  quite  rational  and  sen- 
sible now,  dropping  back  only  now  and  then  into  his 
way  of  wanting  to  be  funny. 

We  were  yet  at  it  when  Hants  appeared,  walking  along 
the  branch-road  from  the  south,  where  he  had  been 
looking  for  us  in  the  fields  for  over  an  hour,  he  asserted. 
In  his  blunt  v/ay  he  exclaimed : 

"Well  Dick,  you  are  having  a  fine  holiday  to-day, 
are  you  not?  Nothing  but  pleasure  and  amusement  all 
day." 

It  made  the  Boss  turn,  red  and  stop  my  work,  adding 
he  would  like  to  have  me  work  for  him  every  day,  if 
my  men  would  let  me  come. 

"No,"  cried  Hants,  "that  will  never  do.  You  will 
work  him  too  hard,  he  is  too  willing  for  }'ou  to  boss. 
But  he  can  speak  for  himself.  Dick!  Do  you  want  to 
change  ?" 

It  made  me  smile.  I  did  not  say  anything  because  I 
thought  the  Boss  really  felt  a  little  bad  about  Hants' 
implied  reproofs.  He  kept  making  excuses  for  having 
set  me  to  work.  So  to  make  him  feel  a  little  different 
I  asked  him  to  let  me  have  two  or  three  young  rose- 
plants,  which  had  been  discarded  as  of  too  poor  a  quality. 
France,  one  day  not  long  ago,  had  said  he  wished  we 
had  some  roses  for  our  flower-boxes.  For  we  had  none. 
But  I  did  not  tell  the  Boss  this.     He  was  so  awfully 

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pleased  at  my  request,  he  did  not  know,  it  seemed, 
what  at  all  to  do.  He  insisted  the  discarded  plants  were 
too  poor.  He  took  me  to  the  plant-house  where  he  put 
some  fine  roses  in  pots  up  for  me  in  a  bundle  to  secure 
behind  my  saddle. 

I  liked  him  very  much  now.  It  appeared  to  have  gone 
out  of  my  head  for  the  time  that  he  was  that  companion, 
in  that  buggy,  of  that  other  man. 

And  now  going  back  to  the  house,  I  heard  music.  At 
first  I  could  hardly  think  what  it  was,  it  enchanted  me 
so.  Only  some  chords  on  a  guitar.  The  lady  of  the 
Boss  was  sitting  on  the  veranda,  the  guitar  in  her  arms. 
And  now  she  sang.  It  sounded  in  me,  I  did  not  know 
what  moved  me.  I  had  no  thought.  It  gave  a  pain  and 
was  so  sweet.  Her  voice  was  not  altogether  clear, 
but  that  made  it  sound  the  more  of  sorrow ;  like  telling 
of  some  void  in  the  heart.     Forever! 

Afterwards  the  lady  called  me  to  her.  Hants  had 
told  her  of  the  song  France  had  taught  me,  and  I  had  to 
sing  it  to  her  accompaniment.  When  I  was  through, 
they  all  applauded.  She  wanted  to  show  me  how  to 
accompany  myself.  She  was  sitting  on  a  large  chair. 
I  stood  in  front  of  her.  She  turned  me  round,  put  the 
guitar  in  my  arms  and  her  arms  round  mine  from  be- 
hind, placing  my  hands  and  fingers,  first  showing  me  how 
to  press  and  pick  the  strings  to  the  chords,  and  then  letting 
me  try  my  hand  alone,  keeping  her  arms  so  that  I  felt 
them  around  me,  and  the  touch  of  her  warm  bosom. 

She  said  she  thought  I  must  have  played  the  guitar  be- 
fore. On  Hants  mentioning  that  France,  who  was  very 
musical  and  could  play  several  different  instruments  had 
a  guitar,  perfectly  sound,  but  no  strings,  she  instantly 
sent  the  Boss  in  to  the  house  to  fetch  some  strings  she 
had  to  spare  and  gave  them  to  me  to  give  to  France  for 
his  guitar,  charging  me  to  tell  him  that  he  must  teach 
me  all  the  music  he  knew. 

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Presently  the  Boss  had  gotten  hold  of  the  guitar  and 
was  giving  us  a  great  performance,  thrumming  and 
hitting  the  instrument  so  hard  I  thought  he  would  surely 
break  it;  striking  nothing  but  discords,  doing  all  kinds 
of  skippings,  striking  attitudes,  bowings  and  scrapings, 
squeaking  and  screeching.  I  was  glad  when  the  China- 
man came  and  said  supper  was  ready  and  the  Boss  had 

to  stop. 

Hants  was  for  leaving  without  supper,  as  we  had  a 
long  ride  before  us,  with  the  day  all  but  done.  But  that 
would  not  satisfy  the  Boss.  We  had  to  come  in  and  sit 
down  to  supper.  And  then  he  claimed  to  be  very  dis- 
contented at  our  eating  no  more  than  we  did,  especially 
I.  Though  I  am  sure  I  ate  a  great  deal,  considering 
that  we  had  dined  so  late,  I  being  in  a  way  always  ready 
to  eat.  At  the  end  then  he  urged  me  to  say  if  there  was 
anything  I  should  like  to  take  along  of  the  eatables  on 
the  table,  and  I  asked  to  be  allowed  to  take  some  cookies 
and  pieces  of  candy  I  had  left  on  my  plate,  when  the 
Boss  immediately  wanted  to  give  me  all  there  was  of  that 
in  the  house.  I  had  quite  a  package  as  it  was,  including 
the  picture  book,  which  I  now  found  was  to  be  mine 
altogether,  all  well  fastened  behind  my  saddle. 

To  France's  instructions  I  thanked  the  Boss  and  his 
lady  for  their  kind  entertainment  and  the  presents.  I 
think  I  should  have  done  that  in  any  case  of  my  own 
self.  They  were  most  kind  and  told  me  I  must  come 
again  soon. 

I  did  come  to  Fountain  Head  again,  but  not  soon,  not 
for  a  year.     And  I  never  saw  the  lady  again. 

So  it  was  now  good-day  and  good-by.  Soon  we  were 
past  the  farm-yards  and  orchards  and  clearings.  The 
wooded  mountain-side  was  growing  dusky.  Insects  were 
making  a  noise.  A  couple  of  bats  kept  ahead  of  us,  flap- 
ping fore  and  back.  Tree  frogs  were  singing.  Near  the 
springs    the    mosquitoes    were    swarming.      In    the    sky, 

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opposite  to  where  the  sun  had  gone  down,  a  pinkish  flush 
was  dying  out,  and  in  it  shone  the  first  faint  sparkle  of  a 
star. 

At  first  we  had  spoken  a  little.  Hants  had  asked: 
"Those  things  you  got,  you  are  going  to  give  to  the  old 
man?"  I  had  not  intended  before  to  give  the  picture- 
book  to  France,  but  since  Hants  seemed  to  presume  that 
I  should,  I  supposed  it  was  no  more  than  right  for  me 
to  do  so  and  I  said,  yes. 

''Yes,  he  has  a  sweet  tooth,"  Hants  continued,  "but 
how  did  you  find  that  out?" 

"You  told  me." 

"I?     Never!     When?" 

"Just  now." 

"Oh,  you  are  getting  smart,"  he  cried.  "That  is  what 
she  said.  She  said  you  were  smart  and  I  must  look  out 
for  you.  But  she  liked  you.  She  told  me  she  liked 
you." 

"She  likes  you,"  I  exclaimed  with  emphasis. 

He  laughed,  quite  tickled.  But  when  he  asked,  how 
did  I  know,  I  did  not  want  to  tell  how  I  had  observed  her 
looking  at  him,  and  what  more  I  had  noticed,  and  was 
silent. 

He  asked  once  again,  how  did  I  know,  but  then  he 
said :  "No,  that  is  right,  keep  your  mouth  shut.  I  mean 
It,"  he  repeated  after  a  moment's  consideration,  lapsing 
into  silence  himself.  And  it  was  a  silent  ride  nearly  all 
the  rest  of  the  way  back. 

Certainly  I  do  not  suppose  I  meditated  on  the  occur- 
rences of  the  day,  nor  speculated  on  their  effects.  But 
so  young  was  I  and  so  little,  so  ignorant  or  not  under- 
standing and  inexperienced,  however  vague  at  best  and 
always  unconsciously  borne,  there  must  have  been 
thought,  consideration,  calculation  even,  stirred  up  by  the 
day's  events  to  occupy  my  mind. 

I  now  knew  the  Boss  to  be  an  acquaintance,  a  friend 

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of  that  strange  man.  I  knew  him  enough  to  know  that 
he  would  never  wittingly  do  anything  to  harm  me ;  but  I 
also  knew  now  that  the  odds  of  my  meeting  that  strange 
man  were  much  greater,  the  danger  of  my  falling  into 
his  hands  much  more  imminent,  our  range  much  closer 
than  I  had  estimated,  and  that  I  must  more  than  ever 
be  on  my  guard  and  keep  my  wits  about  me. 

Night  soon  had  fully  come,  the  stars  glowing  big  and 
small  as  seen  near  and  far  in  the  purplish  hollow,  and 
all  things  were  hushed. 

At  one  point  the  light  of  Five  Oaks  came  in  sight, 
the  one  single  light  in  all  the  country  round;  so  sud- 
denly, and  then  so  quickly  gone  again.  It  made  me  sing 
out:    "There!" 

Hants  had  seen  it,  or  saw  it  at  the  same  moment. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  "there  it  is.  Home  again!  And  are  you 
glad  to  get  back?" 

I  was  glad.  How  friendly  that  little  light  had  shone! 
And  I  had  those  few  things  for  old  France  and  knew 
he  would  like  to  get  them.  And  I  would  see  the  animals 
again.  I  could  hear  the  dogs  now  barking.  And  I  was 
glad  of  other  things  I  could  not  have  told  about.  This 
day  had  shown  me  that  I  had  a  friend  in  Hants.  He 
never  had  been  unfriendly  to  me,  as  he  was  always  good- 
spirited  and  good-humored.  Only  I  always  at  bottom  felt 
that  he  cared  no  more  for  me  than  for  anybody.  He 
liked  to  make  me  feel  badly  as  much  as  he  liked  to  mor- 
tify everybody.  If  he  in  general  took  my  part  at  home, 
he  did  it  more  to  oppose  old  France  and  aggravate  the 
wounding  of  his  feelings. 

Now  to-day  he  had  made  me  feel  as  if  he  did  truly 
have  some  heart  for  me,  and  it  made  me  feel  grateful, 
so  that  I  could  even  transfer  to  him  some  of  my  al- 
legiance to  Mahon  who  hereafter  for  many  months  in 
my  thinking-out  of  stories  not  seldom  changed  places 
with  him.     As  I  indeed  have  often  thought,  there  was 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

some   similarity   in   their   manner   of   conduct,   especially 
sometimes  in  their  way  of  speaking. 

And  I  was  no  less  glad  I  had  come  to  know  the  Boss. 
I  was  very  glad  I  had  ''faced  it,"  as  Hants  had  told  me 
to  do.  And  how  right  had  he  been!  It  was  over  now, 
and  I  was  posted.    I  liked  the  Boss.    He  was  a  good  man. 

The  lady  I  liked  as  w^ell ;  but  it  was  different.  I 
could  fancy  I  could  feel  her  hands  on  my  cheeks  yet, 
smooth  and  soft,  and  the  swelling  warmth  of  her  bosom. 

And  her  voice! 

Something  of  it  seemed  to  be  in  the  night  that  was  so 
beautiful,  around  me,  strange,  drawing  me  away,  un- 
known, over  to  the  sea,  to  a  place  where  I  was  all  alone. 
The  surf  sounded.  From  out  the  gloom  on  the  water 
something  came  to  look  at  me.  Two  beautiful,  sad, 
blind  eyes ! 

I  had  long  since  learned  that  I  could  keep  off  my 
nightmare  by  giving  myself  up  to  my  homesick  long- 
ings, calling  up  my  father's  tenderest  embrace  and  all 
that  was  most  dear  to  me  in  memory  to  shield  me.  As 
though  I  could  give  my  fond  craving  such  complete  pos- 
session of  my  breast  that  nothing  else  could  gain  a  hold. 
Generally  too,  I  could  tell  beforehand  if  my  nightmare 
would  be  coming  of  a  night.  And  often  have  I  fought 
it,  and  conquered,  too.  But  this  night  I  fought  in  vain. 
The  dizziness,  the  fire,  the  horrible  shapes,  the  pursuit! 
It  w^ent  on  the  whole  night. 

France  the  next  day  complained  of  my  dulness  and 
blamed  it  on  my  having  too  good  a  time  the  day  before. 

August. 

So  far  as  getting  work  goes  and  pay,  this  has  been 
the  worst  day  I  have  experienced.  I  have  earned  only 
one-quarter  of  a  dollar  for  watering  and  trimming  a  large 
lawn  of  a  large  private  residence  early  this  morning. 
At  the  place  was  a  regular  gardner.  but  he  was  too  lazy 
or  too  grand  to   do  it  himself.     The   stable-boy  whose 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

business  apparently  it  was,  having  left  or  been  sent  away, 
the  gardener  gave  me  the  job  when  I  appHed  to  him  for 
work.  I  took  him  to  be  the  owner  of  the  property  as  I 
saw  him  at  the  front  gate  in  the  bronze  fence,  he  looked 
such  an  exquisite,  wearing  the  most  stylish  clothes.  The 
owner,  a  Mr.  Stillborn,  who  shortly  after  I  had  come, 
left  the  house  to  go  to  his  business,  was  a  reserved  little 
man,  indifferently  dressed,  who  when  the  gardener  told 
him  he  had  set  me  to  work  and  I  was  to  receive  twenty- 
five  cents,  listened  almost  deferentially,  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  and  handed  me  from  his  purse  a  dime  and 
three  nickles,  bidding  me,  ''Good  morning,  Sir!"  as  he 
walked  away. 

Later  the  lady  of  the  house  came  out  into  the  grounds. 
She  must  be  older  than  her  husband,  whom  she  somewhat 
resembles.  But  only  outwardly.  She  spoke  and  acted 
with  great  bossiness.  She  is  quite  rude  and  without  know^- 
ing  it.  1  meaa  she  is  naturally  that  way,  unconsciously, 
not  intentionally.  She  don't  want  to  insult,  to  hurt  any- 
body's feelings,  but  she  has  no  judgment.  When  she  heard 
that  her  husband  had  paid  me,  she  called  him  a  "ninny." 
When  I  laid  down  the  garden  hose  with  the  sprinkler  for  a 
moment  to  root  out  some  weed  in  the  grass,  .she  cried: 
"That  is  right,  leave  your  work !  Throw  down  the  hose,  let 
everything  go,  you  have  got  your  money  in  your  pocket." 
And  when  I  was  through  with  my  work  and  started  to 
take  the  hose  to  a  little  hose  cart  standing  near  the  rear 
gate  of  the  yard,  to  coil  it  up,  she  shouted:  "Where  are 
you  going?  There  is  nothing  for  you  to  get  there.  And," 
she  added,  as  I  moved  to  go  away  and  tipped  my  hat  to 
her,  "you  need  not  come  back,  thinking  you  are  going  to 
be  an  institution  here.  W'e  have  got  all  the  loafers  we 
want  about  the  place." 

Tliere  was  that  about  her  that  one  could  look  at  her 
roughness,  so  to  call  it,  as  merely  her  way.  But  I  must 
have  looked  rather  conscious,  I  believe,  for  I  had  been 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

thinking  I  might  come  back  and  try  and  work  myself  into 
a  pretty  good  job. 

After  that  I  walked  and  walked.  I  must  have  asked 
for  work  at  five  or  six  dozen  places.  What  hard  work  to 
hunt  for  work,  hardest  of  all  work.  If  it  was  not  for  that 
exuberance  of  spirits  which  carried  me  through  the  first 
days,  and  for  my  falling  in  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  De  Lang,  I 
don't  know  what  I  should  have  done,  or  be  doing  now. 

Ullard  had  a  saying:  If  it  were  not  for  sickness  and  old 
age,  those  people  would  be  best  off  who  would  earn  each 
day  no  more  than  what  would  support  each  day.  There 
would  be  no  residue  of  money  to  hoard,  no  property  to 
worry  over  and  to  pay  taxes  on,  to  feed  the  army  of  tax 
eaters,  and  I  used  to  think  this  wondrously  wise. 

Now,  I  think  it  is  just  one  of  those  double-eyed  sayings 
that  he  made  use  of  so  many.  Best  off?  I  could  imagine 
such  best-off  people  only  as  people  in  the  quite  later  days 
of  life,  when  the  desires  are  all  cooled  and  the  springs  of 
the  heart  dried  up ;  when  habit  has  taken  the  place  of  all 
impulses  and  hope  has  turned  to  what?  Indifference? 
Insenation  ?  and  nothing  remains  but  the  daily  run  of 
routine  work  to  fill  out  the  vacuum  of  life. 

If  I  at  this  time,  now,  had  to  give  up  hoping,  wishing 
for  something,  could  I  live?  And  how  could  I  ever  find 
my  brother,  except  by  merest  accident,  unless  I  had  saved 
money,  some  money?  At  least  to  get  the  first  little  sum, 
with  which  to  make  a  beginning  at  some  trading  or  busi- 
ness or  something  to  make  more,  enough  to  start  search- 
ing for  him ! 

August. 

Yesterday  morning,  passing  by  Mrs.  Joe's  place,  the 
door  being  open,  I  looked  in  and  was  called  in  by  her  and 
told  "to  go  ahead  and  fix  up  the  little  front  yard,"  her 
husband  having  told  her  to  give  me  the  job  should  she 
see  me. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"You  will  have  to  do  two  dollars'  worth  of  work  and 
no  more,"  she  said.    ''Joe  left  only  two  dollars  for  you." 

I  replied  I  supposed  it  would  do.  ''x\ll  right,"  she 
rejoined,  "I  will  give  you  the  money  now.  Mama  is 
coming  this  forenoon.  I  am  going  to  the  theatre,  the  mat- 
inee. If  she  asks  what  your  charge  is,  just  say  that  it  was 
in  the  agreement;  the  other  day,  you  know.  The  grass 
seed  and  the  other  things  are  in  the  cellar." 

She  wore  that  dirty  and  torn  wrapper,  more  dirty  and 
worse  torn  than  before.  And  the  interior  of  the  house 
already  bore  many  traces  of  going  back  to  original  dis- 
order. While  v.'e  were  yet  talking,  the  mother  came.  Al- 
most before  she  was  in  the  house  she  had  taken  off  her 
hat  and  cape.  Then,  putting  on  a  large  apron,  she  imme- 
diately went  to  work,  washing  up  the  breakfast  things, 
cleaning  the  stove,  making  the  beds,  sweeping,  dusting; 
scolding  indeed  at  the  same  time  continually,  but  doing 
smartly  all  the  work  she  was  scolding  about  not  having 
been  done  already,  before  this,  by  Mrs.  Joe;  even  pre- 
venting her  when  she  made  a  move  to  do  some  of  the 
work  herself. 

And  thus  I  saw  and  heard  her  all  day,  Mrs.  Joe  fol- 
lowing her  about,  trailing  her  dirty  clothes  over  every- 
thing, doing  nothing  but  talk  back  in  her  peevish  way,  till 
she  finally  had  to  get  ready  to  go  to  the  theatre,  after  we 
first  had  lunch  together.  I  was  invited  to  stay  for  dinner, 
too,  to  which  the  father  of  Mrs.  Joe  was  expected,  the  ar- 
rangement having  been  especially  made,  so  as  to  give  Mrs. 
Joe  the  chance  to  go  to  the  theatre  in  the  afternoon.  But 
I  declined  the  invitation  and  went  away  when  my  work 
was  done,  not  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  mother,  who 
seemed  to  think  that  I  should  keep  on  doing  something 
till  it  was  quite  dark,  to  fulfill  my  agreement. 

After  a  plentiful  dinner  at  my  Italian  restaurant  I  was 
undecided  w^hether  I  should  walk  the  streets  and  make 
observations,  or  go  home.     It  seemed  natural  to  turn  up 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

my  hill,  and  I  arrived  at  our  gate  togetlier  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Carpenter,  who  were  returning  from  a  short  shop- 
ping expedition.  For  the  first  time  T  accepted  Mrs.  Car- 
penter's invitation  to  enter  their  dwelling,  in  which  Mr. 
Carpenter  joined  in  his  hearty,  if  not  altogether,  sincere 
way,  calling  out :  "Yes,  get  your  mandolin  and  come  in ! 
Wife  w^ill  make  us  a  glass  of  hot  lemonade.  Probably 
you  would  like  something  a  little  stronger,  but  she  does 
not  allow  anything  stronger  drunk  in  the  house.  Nice, 
hot  lemonade,  good  for  rheumatism  !     Ha,  ha !" 

We  had  our  lemonade  and  music  and  conversation. 
They  were  this  morning  going  to  visit  their  friends  in 
Oakland.  They  did  not  invite  me  to  accompany  them 
this  time.  I  think  Mr.  Carpenter  wanted  to,  but  his  wife 
kept  him  from  broaching  the  subject.  It  was  quite  a 
comfortable  evening. 

How  soon  one  is  drawn  into  some  fellowship-inter- 
course with  some  one ! 

''Man  is  a  social  animal," Ullard  used  to  say,  as  many 
before  him,  I  reckon. 

This  morning  I  went  to  the  Ferry  Station  where  I 
met  Mr.  Dugan.  He  said,  business  was  extremely  good ; 
and  when  I  asked  for  a  morning  newspaper,  he  gave  me 
one  and  would  take  no  pay. 

I  told  him  of  my  having  done  more  than  fairly  well  in 
the  garden  business  and  of  the  possibility  of  my  getting 
a  good  job  of  work  from  a  Mr.  Mauresse.  He  said  he 
was  glad  of  my  success,  which,  in  his  single-hearted  way, 
he  seemed  to  take  upon  himself  the  credit  of  being  in  a 
way  the  cause  of,  if  it  did  not  clearly  appear  that  -vvay. 

''He  is  a  very  rich  man,''  I  told  him,  "you  may  have 
heard  of  him." 

"Tall  man!"  he  exclaimed. 

"No,  not  tall,  rather  short,  thick-set:" 

"I  know  him.    Blue  eyes!" 

"No,  reddish-brown." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

"Know  him  well.    Gray  whiskers !" 

''No,  no  whiskers  ;  dark  mustache." 

"Same  man,"  he  cried,  "Morrissy ;  know  him  well." 

"Not  Morrissy,  Mauresse." 

"That  is  him.    Lives  out  in  the  Mission !" 

"No,  he  lives  at  some  hotel  now.  He  is  going  to  live 
near  the  park." 

"That  is  what  I  mean.    The  very  same  man." 

"I  hardly  think,"  I  put  in  hesitatingly,  "that  we  are 
talking  about  the  same  man.  The  man  I  mean  is  an 
Englishman,  a  Cockney  Jew,  called  Mauresse,  though  the 
name  I  suppose  originally  was  Morris." 

"Oh,  Joe  Morris!  why  of  course!  Old  Joe  Morris! 
Why,  man  alive,  I  know  him  as  well  as  I  know  you.  T 
used  to  know  him  in  Sacramento.  You  just  give  him  my 
name  and  you  will  see  what  he  will  do.  That  will  be 
all  right." 

I  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Dugan  and  went  to  walk 
along  the  waterfront,  among  the  many  people  shifting 
about.  Quite  a  number  of  street  fakirs  were  out.  Sev- 
eral sold  remedies  for  catarrh,  which  seems  to  be  the 
favorite  ailing  in  this  town.  I  stopped  here  and  there 
to  listen  to  some  of  the  jokes.  The  crowds  were  very 
good-humored,  as  a  rule.  When  a  detachment  of  the 
Salvation  Army  with  their  big  drum  drew  near,  the 
fakirs  had  to  quit  for  a  time,  or  move  off  to  a  distance. 
I  think  it  was  a  very  shrewd  move  for  the  Salvation 
Army  to  adopt  the  big  drum  for  their  principal  musical 
instrument,  whomever  the  idea  originated  with.  For  the 
big  drum  certainly  silenced  almost  everything  else  and 
will  always  have  the  last  word. 

Time  seems  to  make  no  change  in  the  talk  of  the 
street  preachers,  though  to  me  it  does  appear  strange 
that  individuality  does  not  more  assert  itself.  They  all, 
women  as  well  as  men,  express  themselves  alike  and  with 
almost  the  same  identical   words,   I  have  always  heard 

3^0 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

them  use,  molded  into  the  same  stereotype  phrases,  spoken 
in  the  same  tone,  repeated  over  and  over  again. 

There  was  one  exception,  a  woman.  Not  that  the 
drift  of  her  remarks  was  different,  nor  her  choice  of 
words,  but  a  something  was  in  her  voice  that  made  a 
strange  impression.  And  not  on  me  alone.  As  soon  as 
she  began  to  speak,  three,  four  men,  who  probably  had 
heard  her  before,  left  the  ground.  Others  followed.  One 
rather  serious,  good-natured  and  somewhat  simple-look- 
ing fellow  in  front  of  me  becoming  visibly  more  and  more 
uneasy,  at  last  broke  out  into  cursing  the  woman  most 
frightfully,  and  putting  his  hands  over  his  ears  rushed 
away.  I  went  away  myself,  unable  to  stand  it  any  longer. 
And  it  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  hysterical  quality 
of  sound,  or  a  "ring"  in  the  woman's  voice.  But  it 
was  something  hideous ;  a  horrible  wailing,  like  of  some- 
one calling  in  direst  agony  of  torture  for  help  one  can- 
not render. 

I  joined  another  crowd  where  several  young  men  were 
preaching  alternately,  relieving  each  other.  The  one  just 
then  talking,  dealing  out  hell-fire  pretty  freely,  shook  his 
hand  right  in  the  face  of  a  tall,  stout  fellow.  Of  course 
it  was  an  accident,  but  the  fellow  took  umbrage  at  it  and 
shouted :  "Don't  you  point  your  finger  at  me !"  The 
preacher  apologized  humbly  and  retired,  not  finishing  his 
discourse,  his  associates  covering  his  retreat  with  singing 
a  hymn. 

Here  a  bystander  started  an  argument  with  me,  or 
tried  to.  From  his  looks  I  took  him  to  be  a  hanger-on 
to  the  associated,  young  preachers.  Probably  he  was 
and  mingled  with  the  crowd  to  start  such  arguments. 
At  first  I  gave  evasive  answers,  but  when  he  persisted  I 
gave  him  Ullard's  creed:  "It  is  utterly  and  absolutely 
impossible  for  me  to  believe  in  creation,  and  consequently 
it  is  just  as  absolutely  impossible  for  me  to  believe  in  a 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

creator."    He  stood  with  his  mouth  open,  pronoLincing  the 
word  creation  in  an  uncertain  way  and  moved  away. 

Another  one  of  the  young  preachers  was  by  this  time 
ready  to  speak.  He  commenced  quite  plaintively:  "I 
was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York  without  a  dollar  in 
my  pocket."  A  young  woman  behind  me  poked  me  in 
the  back,  and  when  I  turned  and  smiled,  became  perfectly 
convulsed  with  laughter  and  ran  aw^ay.  I  followed  her 
for  a  short  distance,  till  she  stopped  to  speak  to  some 
young  fellows  I  did  not  like  the  looks  of ;  then  I  wheeled 
about  and  walked  farther  down  the  waterfront. 

On  the  next  corner  a  drunken  man  hove  in  sight  com- 
ing across  the  street,  and  it  looked  for  all  the  world  as 
though  he  was  trying  to  cross  over  in  the  face  of  a  very 
high  wind.  I  could  not  help  stopping  to  watch  him.  He 
would  appear  to  be  blown  about,  fighting  to  hold  his  ow^i, 
turned  half  round  and  held  fast  in  that  position  for  some 
seconds,  till  struck  in  another  direction  by  a  gust  with 
full  power  and  driven  back,  struggling  inch  by  inch,  then 
suddenly  let  go  to  stumble  forward  in  a  lull,  and  again 
brought  up  by  a  wild  blast,  to  turn  and  struggle. 

As  he  was  about  to  fall,  I  went  to  his  assistance  and 
caught  his  arm.  He  clung  to  me  like  a  drowning  man, 
but  he  was  not  at  all  so  far  gone  as  not  to  be  fully 
sensible. 

"I  am  here  yet,"  he  said.  He  was  not  so  very  old, 
though  old  enough  to  make  one  feel  like  taking  care  of 
him  in  his  state. 

I  asked  him  if  I  could  take  him  anywhere. 

"Yes,  take  me  to  Jim's  saloon,  next  block,  if  you  will." 

Should  I  not  rather  take  him  home,  I  suggested. 

**Ha!"  he  cried  angrily,  "Home!  A  man  that  has  no 
wife  has  no  home." 

'*Oh,  but  you  surely  have  some  place  where  you  live," 
I  urged,  "some  friends." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

He  cried  again,  more  angry.  "Friends?    A  man  that 
has  no  money  has  no  friends.    Take  me  to  Jim's." 

At  the  entrance  to  Jim's  saloon  which  was  only  a  few 
doors  astern,  a  man  was  standing  near  the  door,  quite  a 
decent-looking  man.  watching  the  movements  of  the 
drunken  party,  who  had  left  my  arm  and  recommenced 
his  struggle  with  the  wind,  that  now  seemed  to  blow  a 
perfect  gale  straight  out  of  Jim's  doorway.  As  he 
lurched  he  fell  against  the  man,  in  whose  face  he  looked 
with  the  greatest  surprise,  changing  to  new  anger,  and 
roaring  to  the  man,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word  but  per- 
haps looked  at  him  expressively,  ''You  are  a  damned 
liar,"  he  tumbled  into  the  saloon. 

I  sauntered  still  farther  down  the  waterfront  to  where 
a  wide  and  very  long  wharf,  or  pier  has  lately  been  built, 
and  so  far  left  without  roof,  and  unenclosed.  Several 
dozen  people  were  fishing  there.  The  most  of  them  used 
bamboo  rods.  They  did  not  catch  many  fish.  Still  they 
caught  a  few. 

I  was  amused  at  a  boy  that  was  waiting  on  two  big, 
young  fellows  who  were  fishing.  He  did  not  seem  to 
belonsf  to  them  or  to  be  in  anv  wav  connected  with  them, 
but  he  had  to  do  everything  for  them,  and  they  ordered 
him  about  as  though  they  owned  him.  If  a  fish  were 
landed  he  had  to  jump  to  take  it  ofi;  the  hook,  and  string 
it.  bait  the  hook,  go  for  more  bait,  beg  or  steal  it.  He 
had  to  go  and  beg  cigarettes  for  them  from  boys  or  men. 
and  get  matches  the  same  way.  If  anything  went  wrong, 
if  the  lines  became  tangled,  if  the  fish  got  ofif  the  hook 
])efore  it  was  landed,  if  the  hooks  caught  anywhere,  if 
the  light  of  the  cigarettes  went  out  he  was  cursed  and 
abused.  But  if  either  one  of  the  young  men  tired  of 
holding  his  rod,  then  the  boy  was  allowed  to  hold  it  for 
him.  That  and  the  last,  little  butt  of  a  cigarette  given 
to  him  to  smoke  when  it  had  grown  so  short  that  it  could 
not  be  smoked  with  comfort  any  more,  was  the  reward 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

for  his  services.  He  seemed  so  to  regard  it  himself,  and 
even  to  be  proud  of  it,  proud  of  being  in  the  big  fellows' 
company,  imitating  their  swagger.  When  catching  his 
eye  I  gave  him  a  look  of  comprehension  and  a  smile  in 
recognition  of  the  humorous  side  of  the  situation ;  he  re- 
sented it  and  said,  not  loud  but  distinctly  enough  for  me 
to  hear:  "What  are  you  grinning  at,  you  damned  fool?" 

Well,  no  doubt,  I  often  deserve  that  appellation, 

I  had  to  think  of  my  former  self,  my  life  on  the 
wharf.  But  I  was  much  younger  than  this  boy  when  I 
was  with  Nick  and  Nello.  And  if  I  had  to  wait  on  our 
customers,  and  did  perhaps  more  work  and  waiting  than 
I  should  have  done,  my  men  would  have  forbidden  me 
to  do  such  waiting  on  such  young  loafers  as  this  boy  did. 

I  went  to  dinner  early  and  came  home  early. 

I  feel  to-night  as  though  this  day,  to-day,  had  been 
an  unprofitable  day.  I  might  have  gone  to  Mr.  De  Lang's 
and  worked  at  trimming  up  the  place  a  little,  only  that 
it  really  needs  no  trimming  up  yet.  I  wonder  if  they 
are  home  to-night.  I  sometimes  think  home  is  the  place 
where  Mrs.  De  Lang  can  least  endure  to  be. 

Old  France  has  been  a  good  deal  in  my  mind  all  day. 
Maybe  on  that  account  I  have  this  feeling  of  the  un- 
profitableness of  this  day,  because  when  I  was  alone  with 
him  after  Hants  was  gone,  I  had  this  same  feeling  on 
odd  days. 

When  Hants  and  France  had  gone  to  farming  to- 
gether, the  arrangement  had  been  the  very  thing  to 
suit  France.  When  I  had  come  to  them  his  satisfaction 
had  been  complete.  The  only  thing  he  desired  was  that 
there  be  no  change,  that  everything  remain  as  it  was, 
to  last  the  years  of  life  left  to  him.  And  then  how  sud- 
denly the  change  did  come ! 

One  Sunday  Hantz  had  gone  to  Fairlies.  Tlie  same 
day,  when  we  had  not  expected  him  for  perhaps  a  week, 
he  came  back  in  a  state  of  suppressed  excitement  that 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

impressed  me  very  much.  For  several  hours  that  evening 
he  and  France  sat  in  close  conference.  So  much  I  could 
guess  that  he  wanted  France  to  do  something  the  old  man 
did  not  want  to  do.  Afterwards  I  learned  what  it  was 
about.  Hants  had  met  at  Fairlies  a  former  acquaint- 
ance from  the  mines  who  had  told  him  of  a  new  find  of 
gold  near  the  old  well-known  diggings  of  Purple  Gulch. 
There  was  a  chance  of  getting  in  and  taking  up  some  good 
claims.  But  it  must  be  done  immediately.  Hants,  I  am 
sure  had  tried  very  hard  to  persuade  France  to  join 
him  in  another  trial  at  mining  which  he  was  resolved  at 
all  hazards  to  make.  But  France  would  not  make  the 
venture. 

Before  nine  o'clock  that  night  Hants  was  gone  away 
again. 

In  three  days  he  returned.  And  he  was  a  changed 
man  to  me  then.  He  told  me  he  had  now  got  what 
would  make  him  a  rich  man.  He  could  sell  out  this 
day  for  a  big,  round  sum ;  but  he  was  in  no  hurry.  He 
would  sell  all  right  when  it  was  time.,  France  could  have 
done  the  same  as  he  did  if  he  had  only  had  sense;  he 
had  done  all  he  could  and  knew  how  to  get  France  to 
pull  up  stakes  and  go  with  him  to  the  new  diggings,  but 
with  no  success.  The  old  man  was  a  fool.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  made  at  farming.  They  might  make  a  liv- 
ing, he  said,  like  they  had  been  doing,  but  they  never 
could  make  more  all  their  life,  and  he  was  not  going  to 
put  in  all  his  life  at  that ;  the  chance  to  win  the  fortune 
he  had  wished  for  ever  since  he  had  known  what  a  for- 
tune meant  had  come  to  him  now  at  last,  and  he  had 
taken  that  chance.  He  had  never  seen  a  better  outlook, 
but  even  if  it  turned  out  poor,  he  could  always  go  back  to 
be  a  farm-hand.  The  old  man,  he  went  on,  did  all  the 
time  keep  harping  on  the  point  that  when  they  had  given 
up  mining  and  gone  to  farming  they  had  agreed  and 
promised  each  other  to  work  and  stay  together.     Now 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

would  they  not  work  and  stay  together  at  the 
mining  camp  Hke  at  the  farm?  The  truth  was,  the 
old  man  wanted  to  stay  just  where  he  was  and  keep  on 
doing  just  as  he  was  doing,  pother  round,  fuss,  give  les- 
sons, read,  make  music,  do  a  little  housework  and  cook- 
ing and  let  other  people  do  all  other  work.  That  was 
all  right;  he  had  always  been  willing  to  do  more  than 
his  share  of  work,  and  that  I  should  get  all  the  teaching 
I  could.  But  he  had  other  aims  besides,  he  was  not  done 
yet  with  life  and  with  some  people  in  this  world,  whom 
he  was  wanting  to  teach  a  lesson  himself. 

Finally  he  told  me  that  he  was  going  away  the  next 
day,  that  old  France  would  stay  at  Five  Oaks  and  wanted 
me  to  stay  there  with  him,  and  that  I  should  do  that, 
he  supposed,  though  it  was  none  of  his  business.  I  could 
do  as  I  pleased.  He  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  me, 
and  I  had  nothing  more  to  do  w^ith  him.  Only  I  should 
have  to  go  with  him  to  Purple  Gulch  the  next  day,  as  he 
was  going  to  take  along  an  extra  horse  to  pack  his 
things,  one  of  our  horses,  vv^hich  I  was  to  bring  back. 
Later  when  he  had  made  his  fortune  he  might  pay  us 
a  visit  before  he  went  away  for  good,  back  to  the  old 
Pennsylvania  home. 

I  had  been  feeling  badly  enough  about  his  going  to 
leave  us  and  his  saying  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  do 
with  me,  and  when  he  wound  up  with  giving  me  praise, 
purposely  to  make  me  feel  worse,  I  am  sure,  saying  I  had 
always  been  a  good  boy  and  he  had  always  liked  me,  he 
very  soon  had  me  crying  most  bitterly.  All  that  day 
while  he  was  gone  to  Fountain  Head  to  settle  some  things 
with  the  Boss,  I  wandered  round  the  place  thinking  of 
him,  missing  him  at  every  corner,  going  into  the  fields, 
petting  the  cows  and  horses,  to  tell  them  in  whispers 
that  he  was  going  away;  the  only  bright  spot  in  all  the 
gloom  being  the  told-of  ride  with  him  to  Purple  Gulch. 

And  then  how  the  meeting  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  at  that 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

place  changed  everything  again,  all  my  thinking,  all  my 
feeling,  everything!  The  indescribable,  boundless  joy  at 
seeing  him.     Sometimes  I  fancy  I  feel  the  effects  of  it 

to  this  day. 

Mr.  Tern  Oldock  had  told  me  I  must  not  let  on  to 
anybody  that  I  knew  him  in  the  least;  someone  was  after 
him.  Perhaps  I  connected  this  someone  with  my  mys- 
terious enemy.  I  cannot  tell.  It  was  enough,  however, 
to  silence  my  joyous  outburst  and  make  me  go  back  to 
Five  Oaks  without  the  murmur  of  a  hesitation.  But  I 
carried  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  with  me  in  my  heart  and  never 
lost  the   feeling  of   the   possession   of   him   till   v>'e   met 

again. 

And  shall  we  not  meet  again  now  ? 

I  never  learned  what  passed  between  Hants  and  France 
when  after  about  a  year's  absence  Hants  returned  from 
Purple  Gulch  for  his  last,  short  visit  to  Five  Oaks,  a 
rich  man.  From  some  remarks  made  afterwards  by 
France,  and  hints,  I  think  Hants  made  him  the  ofifer  to 
take  him  along  to  Pennsylvania,  which  oflFer  France  re- 
jected. I  believe  he  felt  the  offer  to  have  been  made 
in  pure  boastfulness.  I  don't  think  he  was  right.  Hants 
would  have  stood  by  the  offer  if  he  made  it.  And  if  he 
took  him  away  from  Five  Oaks  and  along  to  Pennsyl- 
vania, that  meant  that  he  would  take  care  of  him  further. 
Yet  he  may  have  been  very  glad  when  old  France  did 
not  accept  the  proposition.  And  France  may  have  been 
convinced  that  he  was  using  the  better  sense  and  judg- 
ment of  the  two,  not  to  go  into  an  arrangement  which 
might  make  a  dependent  of  him  and  work  a  burdensome 
engagement  on  Hants,  though  it  was  not  from  sense  or 
judgment,  I  am  sure,  that  he  refused  to  accept  the  offer, 
but  from  pride.  For  France  was  at  bottom  of  much 
haughtiness  and  no  little  conceit,  which,  I  believe,  is  often 
joined  to  pure  obstinacy. 

He  had  lost  his  chance,  missed  it.  He  had  not  wanted 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

to  take  it  when  Hants  took  it.  He  did  not  envy  Hants, 
at  least  not  to  more  than  such  envy  or  grudge  we  all, 
I  suppose,  feel  when  our  former  partner,  after  forcing 
the  dissolution  of  the  partnership  meets  with  great  suc- 
cess. But  he  must  have  felt  that  if  he  had  not  given  up 
trying,  had  not  resigned  himself  to  a  retired  life  of 
poverty  and  had  not  in  stubbornness  clung  to  this  condi- 
tion, but  had  kept  up  his  striving,  not  considering  himself 
a  so  much  better  judge  than  Hants  he  would  now  be  able 
to  live  the  life  he  liked  in  independence  and  abundancy. 

To  me  Hants  had  given  two  five  dollar  gold  pieces, 
telling  me  to  take  good  care  of  them,  sew  them  in  my 
shirt  and  keep  them  for  a  rainy  day.  He  had  stayed  not 
half  an  hour.    Then  he  was  gone  for  good. 

I  sometimes  faintly  wonder  if  he  carried  out  his  plans 
of  retribution  in  regard  to  his  half-brother  and  sister, 
buying  in  the  family  farm  and  giving  it  to  them.  T  don't 
believe  he  did.  I  think  when  it  came  to  the  point,  he 
found  a  less  expensive  form  of  retaliation  answering 
better. 

August. 

I  started  out  very  early  this  morning  to  hunt  np  work, 
walking  briskly  against  the  chilly  wind  and  fog  through 
parts  of  the  fine  residence-quarter  of  the  north  side  of 
the  town.  That  is  one  advantage  of  our  disagreeable 
climate,  it  will  never  let  us  get  lazy;  we  have  to  keep 
moving  and  lively  at  that. 

I  did  not  expect  to  find  much  work  where  I  was  going, 
since  it  is  all  either  steadily  contracted  for,  or  seen  to, 
at  the  larger  places  by  men  employed  there.  I  did  not 
get  a  single  chance  to  ofifer  my  services  to  anyone  till 
I  was  past  the  Presidio  entrance,  where  I  found  a  man 
hoeing  away  in  the  small  front  yard  of  a  small  but  pre- 
tentiously cheap-gorgeous  dwelling  house.  He  was  rather 
young,  yet  of  an  oldish  air.  I  did  not  like  his  looks, 
not  only  his  appearance  but  something  more  about  him 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

which  was  disagreeable,  without  being  able  to  tell  right 
away  what  it  was.  He  was  thin,  of  a  long  body  on  short 
legs  with  long  feet,  long  arms  and  sloping,  or  rather 
down-hanging  shoulders,  long  neck  and  sharp  face. 

I  .spoke  to  him  and  asked  for  w^ork.  He  was  a  lawyer. 
I  found  him  very  accessible.  Some  questions  I  put  to 
him  he  answered  most  willingly.  But  that  was  not  till 
evening. 

He  had  set  me  to  work  in  the  morning  immediately. 
In  fact  my  happening  along  there  seemed  most  oppor- 
tune. He  made  no  bargain  with  me  as  to  my  charges 
and  went  away  greatly  in  a  hurry  to  go  down-town 
to  his  business. 

I  worked  there  all  day,  first  in  the  little  front  yard, 
afterwards  in  the  back  yard  and  finally  about  the  lower 
part  of  the  house,  where  I  had  to  do  sundry  jobs  of 
nailing  up  shelves,  screwing  in  hooks,  putting  in  screens, 
all  to  the  wife's  directions,  w^ho  proved  a  quiet,  not 
unpleasant,  but  somewhat  indifferent  or  dull  person.  She 
gave  all  her  orders  in  a  most  uncertain  way,  always  want- 
ing to  know  what  I  thought  about  it  and  always  letting 
me  do  everything  my  way.  Two  stupid-looking,  four  and 
five  year  old  little  boys  of  short  legs,  long  thin  bodies, 
long  arms  and  no  shoulders  to  speak  of,  showed  them- 
selves often  on  the  rear  porch,  observing  me  at  my  work, 
but  never  venturing  near.  Occasionally  a  young  girl 
came  out  of  the  kitchen  onto  the  porch  to  look  after  them 
and  speak  to  me.  She  told  me  she  had  been  hired  from 
an  orphanage  and  was  the  only  help  in  the  house.  She 
appeared  a  little  weak-minded.  At  the  upper  rear  win- 
dows I  saw  at  times  two  old  ladies,  who  from  their  thin, 
sharp  faces,  long  necks  and  drooping  shoulders  I  took  to 
be  relatives.  When  I  was  called  into  the  kitchen  at  noon 
to  lunch,  I  saw  the  two  ladies  seated  at  the  dining  room 
table.  They  wore  a  great  deal  of  jewelry,  and  from  the 
attention  they   received   from  the   lady  of  the  house,   I 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALA  \  US 

thought  they  must  have  money.  Altogether  I  was  in  the 
story-weaving  mood,  such  as  I  used  to  think  out  to  my- 
self, when  a  boy. 

In  the  evening  toward  six  o'clock  the  lawyer,  Mr. 
Snivers,  came  back  from  business  and  offered  to  pay  me 
half  a  dollar  for  my  day's  work.  I  did  not  take  the  money 
right  away. 

'*I  have  not  done  very  well  to-day,"  he  said.  "Fifty 
cents  is  all  I  can  give  you.  I  think  you  had  your  lunch 
here  too,  did  you  not  ?     That  is  worth  another  fifty  cents." 

Yes,  I  answered,  I  had  my  lunch  here,  and  I  was  sorry 
for  the  lady  to  be  at  so  much  more  work  and  trouble, 
having  enough  people  to  wait  on  and  work  for,  all  day. 
But,"  I  abruptly  changed  the  subject,  *'I  should  like  to 
ask  you  a  question.  If  anyone  dies,  is  not  his  property 
put  through  the  courts  ?" 

He  was  immediately  on  the  alert.  ''Why  yes,"  he 
cried.     "How?     That   depends.     What   do  you   mean?" 

''I  know  so  little  about  these  tihngs,"  I  replied,  ''that 
what  I  say  and  how  I  say  it  may  sound  very  stupid.  I 
mean  if  anyone  dies,  possessed  of  property,  is  not  the 
heirship  regulated  by  law.  And  are  not  records  of  the 
proceedings  kept  in  court?" 

"Why  yes  to  be  sure,"  he  exclaimed.  "If  there  is  no 
will  all  inheritance  is  regulated  in  the  Probate  court  ac- 
cording to  law.  If  there  is  a  will  the  property  goes  to 
the  heirs  according  to  the  will  through  the  same  court. 
Was  there  a  will?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  the  will  had  to  go  to  probate,  and  of  course  the 
Probate  court  proceedings  will  be  on  proper  record  or 
file.     What  is  the  case?" 

But  I  did  not  like  to  tell  him  the  case.  In  fact  I  had 
begun  to  fear  I  had  done  wrong  in  speaking  to  him  at  all 
about  this  matter. 

"If  you  want  to  find  out  anything,"  he  proceeded,  "I 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

can  do  it  for  you  better  than  any  other  man.  And  T 
should  do  it  very  reasonably.  I  have  a  great  deal  of 
Probate  court  practice.  And  if  you  have  any  claim,  I 
have  a  good  pull  with  the  judge.  There  are  not  many 
members  of  the  bar  that  have  more  influence  than  I 
have.  Just  give  me  your  case.  I  will  put  it  through 
in  shape.  Why,  I  see  you  have  put  the  whole  garden 
in  trim ;  and  you  fixed  up  the  back  yard  too  and  saw^ed 
a  lot  of  wood.  You  must  have  worked  pretty  hard,  I 
guess  you  did  more  than  tw^o  dollars'  worth  of  work. 
Here,  take  this,  two  dollars  and  a  half.  And  you  had 
better  go  in  the  kitchen  and  get  your  supper.  That 
front  yard  looks  pretty.  Don't  it  look  pretty,  now !  I 
guess  I  shall  have  you  come  once  a  week  to  take  care  of 
it.  And  as  to  your  case,  I  think  you  cannot  do  better 
than  to  let  me  look  into  it.  Of  course  I  can't  tell  you 
anything  till  I  know  more  myself.  Any  contest?  How 
long  since  the  party  died  ?  Over  ten  years  ?  H'm !  Well, 
sometimes  the  longer  the  better.     Any  minor  heirs?" 

The  more  he  talked  the  less  I  liked  to  give  him  any 
particulars.  He  now^  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  man  who 
would  do  anything  to  get  a  case.  And  I  grew-  more  hes- 
itating as  he  grew  more  pressing,  offering  to  take  my  case 
on  a  contingency;  if  I  had  a  case  and  the  claim  was  valu- 
able; if  the  claim  brought,  say,  ten  thousand  dollars,  he 
would  take  six  thousand  and  give  me  four  thousand,  less 
the  costs  of  course.  And  something  would  have  to  be 
done  for  the  judge,  till  at  last  I  cried,  '*I  have  no  case, 
I  have  no  claim.     There  is  no  claim." 

'Tt  is  simply  this,"  I  continued,  "a — well,  a  merchant  of 
this  place  died  here  ten  years  and  more  ago,  leaving,  I 
don't  know  how  much  or  how  little.  He  was  separated 
from  his  wife  for  some  years  before  he  died,  but  not 
divorced.  Their  two  children  had  been  living  with  him. 
At  his  death  the  wife  took  them  and  went  away  with  them 
from  this  place.     Now,  would  it  be  possible  to  find  out 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

from  the  records  of  the  court  proceedings  where  they 
went,  where  they  are  at  present  ?  That  is  all  I  want  to 
know." 

''Possible/'  he  answered,  "why,  yes !  Possibly  it  would 
be  possible.  It  depends.  Any  real  estate?  Children 
minors  yet?" 

''The  boy  would  be  under  age  yet,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  the  boy!"  he  echoed.  "Then  the  other  child  was 
a  girl.  You  are  not  the  boy ?  No!  No!  Any  relative? 
Son  by  a  former  wife  ?  No !  No !  How  about  the 
will?" 

I  was  very  angry  with  myself  for  letting  him  find  out 
so  much.  1  was  all  but  resolved  not  to  say  a  word  more. 
But  I  did.  "There  was  a  will,"  I  told  him,  "made  years 
before,  right  after  the  marriage,  leaving  everything  to 
the  wife  and  probably  making  her  executor  as  well  as 
administrator.     There  was  no  former  wife." 

He  thereupon  explained  to  me  that  in  that  case  where 
there  was  a  proper  will,  leaving  everything  uncondition- 
ally, if  uncoTiditionally,  to  the  wife,  or  widow,  the  records 
of  the  court  would  show  nothing  of  the  whereabouts  of 
the  person  in  question,  at  the  present  time.  The  estate 
would  be  settled  up  and  out  of  probate  long  ago.  Of 
course  the  will  must  have  gone  to  probate,  but  after  the 
lawful  limit  of  claims  and  the  estate  once  settled,  the  court 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  any  part  of  it,  the 
wife  or  widow  would  be  absolute  owner  of  all  the  prop- 
erty, real  as  well  as  personal  and  if  she  sold  or  leased  or 
deeded  or  kept  any  or  all  of  it,  the  court  would  have  no 
say  in  the  matter,  except  the  wife  or  widow  had  died 
during  administration,  before  settlement,  which  would 
bring  her  heirs  into  court.  Or  except  there  had  been 
suits,  and  nothing  was  more  likely,  to  keep  the  estate  from 
being  settled.  Or  the  widow  owning  property  here,  her 
death  occurring  at  any  time  would  bring  her  estate  into 
probate  here.     But,  of  course  that  would  be  another  case. 

322 


CHROXICLES  OF  MAXUEL  ALAXUS 

.\iid  he  went  on  and  on,  about  will^,  estates,  minor  heirs, 
illegitimate  children,  second  wives,  former  husbands, 
tricks  in  law,  tricks  in  court,  suit,  influence  with  judges, 
secret  understanding  between  lawyers,  prices  of  judg- 
ments, till  I  thought  he  would  never  stop.  And  I  did 
not  know  what  to  admire  more  in  him,  the  scoundrelship 
he  showed,  the  barefacedness  with  which  he  showed  it, 
the  utter  absence  of  all  shame,  or  the  stupidity  with  which 
he  constantly  gave  himself  away. 

Finally  he  pioposed  that  I  should  retain  him  as  counsel 
and  give  him  as  retaining  fee  one  dollar  of  the  money  he 
had  paid  me.     But  this  I  did  not  do. 

We  were  having  all  this  talk  on  the  rear  porch,  where 
I  had  trailed  a  creeper  up  the  corner  post.  The  old- 
est one  of  the  two  little  bo}  s  came  out  of  the  kitchen  and 
joined  us,  sent  perhaps  by  his  mother  as  a  reminder  to 
his  father  that  supper  was  waiting.  The  father  called 
him  to  him  and  petted  him  a  little  and  said,  as  if  making 
him  do  a  little  child's  trick:  "Now,  show  the  man  that 
you  are  a  boy,"  which  to  my  consternation  the  child  im- 
mediately did,  whereat  Mr.  Snivers  chuckled  and  patted 
his  head  and  called  him  his  own  boy,  what,  no  doubt, 
lie  is. 

Ullard  many  times  said:  ''Show  me  the  man  or  the 
woman  without  shame,  and  I  shall  show  you  the  born, 
true  criminal." 

That  is  what  this  man  Snivers  is :  the  born  criminal. 

It  drags  me  back  to  prison,  where  he  belongs,  to  think 

of  it. 

Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  must  tell,  proclaim  aloud  what 
T  know.  If  people  only  knew  they  would  kill  more  than 
nine-tenths  of  all  those  they  send  to  prison.  But  are 
they  any  bettter?  Are  we  not  all  criminals?  That  is 
what  those  on  the  inside  of  the  prison  walls  say :  All  are 
criminals,  but  those  on  the  outside  are  the  lucky  ones  that 
are  not  caught. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

And  the  children  ?  Ullard  used  to  brand  them  as  crim- 
inals. They  know  no  shame,  certainly,  not  till  they  are 
taught.     Nor  do  other  animals  know  it. 

No  more! 

August. 

Accidentally  I  may  have  stumbled  on  our  Smith,  who 
was  our  head  clerk  in  my  father's  business.  I  do  not 
really  believe  it,  yet  when  I  think  it  might  be  and  that 
from  him  I  can  surely  learn  the  whereabouts  of  Harry,  I 
can  hardly  contain  myself  to  wait. 

I  went  to  the  place  of  Mr.  DeLang  this  morning  to  take 
a  passing  look  at  the  front  yard.  Everything  about  the 
place  was  so  quiet  that  I  felt  certain  of  nobody's  being 
at  home.  Still  something  impelled  me  to  go  up  the  steps 
and  ring  the  bell.  And  Mrs.  DeLang  answered  it,  looking 
as  fresh  as  a  morning  after  the  rain.     Charming. 

She  had  a  letter  in  her  hand.  I  asked  jokingly  if  it 
was  from  her  to  me. 

"Well,"  she  cried,  '*if  that  is  not  funny!  I  never  had 
anything  so  funny  happen  to  me  in  all  my  life.  I  should 
never  have  thought  of  it,  if  you  had  not  mentioned  it. 
Mr.  DeLang  left  a  note  for  you  in  his  office  and  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  it.  I  never  should  have  remembered 
it  if  you  had  not  spoken.  How  did  you  come  to  ask? 
Did  you  meet  Mr.  DeLang?  No?  Well,  if  that  is  not 
funny!     Did  I  ever?     How  did  you  come  to  speak  of  it?" 

I  said,  "I  did  not  know.  Perhaps  her  appearance  had 
surprised  me,  since  I  had  not  expected  to  find  her  home : 
and  she  coming  in  all  her  loveliness  so  suddenly  upon  me 
had  probably  turned  my  head  and  made  me  say  the  first, 
silly  thing  at  hand.     For  was  it  not  silly?" 

She  gave  me  a  look  and  laughed.  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  look.  But  who  could  describe  her  laugh? 
How  poor  after  all  is  actually  all  language,  unable  even 
to  describe  a  laugh!  Cooing,  rippling,  bubbling,  nothing 
fits.    Fits?    Preposterous  is  what  all  these  attributes  are. 

3^4 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Hideous  seems  the  sound  of  every  one  of  them  by  com- 
parison. 

I  hear  it  now.  It  makes  me  smile  whenever  I  but 
think  of  it  as  I  hsten,  it  seems  to  tickle  me.  Something 
in  it,  I  don't  know  what,  a  little,  just  a  touch,  is  what 
makes  it  so. 

She  asked  me  to  come  in,  but  I  resisted.  She  went  to 
fetch  her  husband's  note  for  me  from  his  workroom  or 
office.  She  was  gone  quite  a  long  time.  Once  I  thought 
I  heard  a  calling  sound.  I  did  not  stir.  When  she  came 
to  the  open  door  again  she  told  me  with  the  most  doleful 
face  that  she  could  not  find  the  letter  high  or  low.  Slie 
had  taken  it  from  the  desk  where  Mr.  Del.ang  had  left 
it  and  laid  it  on  the  drawing  table,  all  by  itself,  so  that  it 
would  easier  catch  her  eye.     Now  it  had  vanished. 

At  a  venture  I  interposed:  "Is  not  that  it  perhaps?" 
pointing  to  tlie  letter  she  had  held  in  her  hand  all  this 
time  and  was  biting  the  corner  of  now,  with  her  beautiful, 
little,  even,  white  teeth.     And  it  was. 

The  note  was  not  closed.  It  was  addressed  to  a  Mr. 
Malls,  introducing  me  and  recommending  me  for  some 
garden  work.  I  thanked  her,  told  her  to  give  my  thanks 
to  Mr.  DeLang,  and  asked  her  if  there  was  anything  else 
he  wished  me  to  do. 

She  answered  "No!  Oh,  yes!  There  is.  He  told  me 
that  Mr.  Mauresse  is  going  to  give  his  gardening  job 
to  you.  But  I  was  not  to  tell  you,  because,  of  course, 
you  know,  it  might  not  be,  Mr.  DeLang  says.  But  I 
reckon  you  are  going  to  get  that  job  all  right.  Mrs. 
Mauresse  wants  you  to  do  it.  She  wants  to  see  you 
some  time,  Mr.  DeLang  says.     Did  you  ever  see  her?" 

"No!     Why?     Because  she  is  so  very  handsome?" 

"Now  I  declare,  how  did  you  guess  that?  Or  some- 
body told  you." 

"No!  Why,  the  way  you  spoke,  anyone  would  know 
that  she  must  be  either  very  plain  or  very  beautiful  to 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

be  something  remarkable  to  look  at.  And  as  Mr. 
Manresse  is  rater  plain,  the  natural  deduction  is  that  she 
is  the  reverse." 

"Rather  plain,"  she  mocked.  "Well  I  should  say, 
rather  plain.  I  don't  see,  for  my  life,  how  in  the  world 
she  could  ever  marry  such  a  monkey." 

*'But  there  are  other  considerations,"  I  replied.  "Who 
knows  but  what  he  is  the  very  best  kind  of  husband.  He 
is  giving  her  for  one  thing  a  very  fine  house  to  live  in." 

"Oh!"  she  pouted,  "who  cares  for  a  house?  Give  me 
a  hotel  to  live  in  every  time." 

While  we  were  speaking,  a  young  man,  walking  rather 
fast,  passed  the  house.  She  bowed  to  him  and  smiled 
and  spoke,  addressing  him  as  Mr.  Smith.  He  returned 
the  bow  and  smiled  pleasantly  enough,  if,  as  I  thought,  a 
little  carelessly,  while  I  had  been  thinking  that  Mrs.  De- 
Lang's  manner  had  shown  more  than  necessary  neighbor- 
ly interest.  I  asked  her  if  he  was  a  neighbor.  She  said 
yes,  he  lived  in  the  last  but  one  cottage  in  the  block,  and 
she  entered  into  a  lengthy  relation  of  their  acquaintance 
and  other  particulars.  Mr.  DeLang  had  built  tlie  cottage, 
of  course  since  he  had  built  all  the  dwellings  in  that  row. 
Mr.  Smith  was  a  clerk  in  a  bank,  was  married  and  had 
the  sweetest,  cutest,  little  girl  baby  in  the  whole  world. 
Had  I  not  thought  him  handsome  and  well  dressed  ?" 

I  looked  after  him  for  another  glance  of  observation. 
but  he  already  had  disappeared  round  a  corner.  How- 
ever, I  could  tell  Mrs.  DeLang  that  he  had  appeared  to 
me  very  handsome,  very  gentlemanlike  and  very  well 
dressed. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  little  half  gasp  and  half 
sigh,  "if  his  mustache  were  only  dark,  instead  of  light. 
he  would  be  my  ideal."  And  she  finished  by  casually 
remarking  that  his  name  was  James  Algernon  Smith. 

"Well,  now  it  is  my  turn,"  I  said,  "to  find  something 
happening  very  strange ;  for  I  knew  a  man  of  that  name. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  I  should  like  to  speak  to  him  too.  And  he  had  a 
son  of  that  same  name  who  should  be  of  exactly  the 
age  of  this  gentleman  ;  about  twenty-four  years."  And 
I  asked  her  if  she  could  not  find  out  for  me  from  this  2vlr. 
James  Algernon  Smith,  since  she  said  she  saw  him  every 
day,  if  his  father  had  been  chief  clerk  in  the  banking 
house  of  H.  Alanus  up  to  about  thirteen,  fourteen  years 
ago.  I  did  not  give  her  any  more  particulars.  And  now 
I  fear,  I  already  gave  her  too  much.  She  will  not  remem- 
ber. She  has  forgotten  before  this,  I  am  sure.  Why  did 
I  want  to  tell  her  to  ask  him  anything?  I  could  go  my- 
self to  him. 

I  wonder  if  he  is  the  boy  Algie  who  would  come  to 
our  office  once  in  a  long  while  to  see  his  father,  and  al- 
ways by  his  coming  made  his  father  angry.  I  cannot 
say  that  he  looked  in  the  least  what  one  would  expect  to 
see  that  boy  grown  up  to  be  like.  I  remember  him  very 
well.  He  was  constantly  asking  everybody  for  money. 
Sometimes  he  would  tell  by  what  means,  arts,  stories, 
representations  and  misrepresentations  he  had  succeeded 
in  obtaining  money  from  different  people,  showing  quite 
an  intuition  or  knowledge  of  human  nature. 

I  am  going  out  now  to  ^Ir.  2vlalls  with  my  letter  of 
recommendation. 

Later. 

As  I  was  setting  out  for  Mr.  2^Ialls  with  my  letter  of 
recommendation  in  my  pocket,  it  came  into  my  head  to 
go  down  to  the  Tern  Oldock  offices  to  ask  for  news  froin 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock  or  Mahon.  I  am  sorry  I  went.  I  might 
have  known  that  I  should  not  be  told  anything.  An  el- 
derly gentleman  was  the  only  person  in  the  office,  at  least 
the  only  visible  person.  And  he  would  hardly  listen  to 
me.  As  soon  as  I  put  my  question  lie  began  to  question 
me  and  after  a  very  few  words  plainly  told  me  that  unless 
I  gave  a  full  account  of  myself  and  my  objects  I  should 
receive  no  information  whatever.     The  rich  men  here  or 

327 


LliROXJCLliS  Of  ALIXUiiL  ALANUS 

everywhere  are  quite  persecuted  by  cranks  and  crooks  I 
suppose.  And  if  I  call  again,  maybe,  I  shall  be  looked 
upon  as  a  crook  or  crank.  Or  I  am  already  regarded  as 
such.  I  hunted  up  the  old,  colored  janitor.  I  ought  to 
have  gone  to  him  in  the  first  place.  He  recollected  me 
and  told  me  that  neither  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  or  Mahon  had 
come  and  that  he  did  not  expect  them  to  come  before 
next  summer,  if  they  came  at  all. 

September. 

Patience !   Patience  !     To  think  of  all  the  time  gone  by ! 

On  Tuesday  I  went  out  to  the  place  of  Mr.  Malls.  It 
took  a  long  ride  on  the  street  cars  and  a  short  walk  uphill 
to  get  there.  It  is  a  place  intended  to  be  a  sort  of  public 
garden,  and  I  think  it  is  very  suitably  located  for  that 
purpose  on  the  leveled-off  head  of  a  little  eminence  pro- 
jecting out  from  the  broad  sweep  of  a  glen,  among  the 
farther  mission  hills,  all  sheltered  from  the  everlasting 
sea  breeze  by  a  forest  of  planted  trees. 

I  had  to  go  to  work  right  away,  the  head-gardener 
employed  before  me  having  suddenly  fallen  ill  the 
work  was  waiting  to  be  completed.  And  I  have  been 
out  there  till  last  night.  I  slept  in  a  very  elegant  bed- 
room in  the  public  house  or  inn,  built  and  run  in 
conjunction  with  the  place.  Not  but  what  I  wished, 
every  conscious  moment,  myself  back  in  my  shabby 
little  room  here,  where,  last  night  when  I  came  home, 
Mrs.  and  Mr.  Carpenter  have  made  me  feel  doubly 
welcome  and  comfortable.  They  had  been  much  con- 
cerned about  me.  I  could  not  advise  them  of  my 
whereabouts  till  the  third  day,  having  no  time  or 
opportunity. 

I  think  Mr.  Malls  was  very  well  satisfied  with  me. 
He  paid  me  first  class  foreman's  wages.  He  wanted 
me  to  stay  too,  after  the  head-gardener  had  come  back, 
and  keep  on  workng,  though  at  ordinary  laborers  rates. 
It  was  not  the  rates  that  made  me  leave,  nor  the  re- 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

turn  of  the  head-gardener,  though  he  did  not  care  much 
to  see  me  there.  I  left  for  several  reasons,  principally 
I  think  from  a  sort  of  homesickness.  And  I  like  more 
independence  of  work,  and  smaller  jobs.  The  job  for 
Mr.  Mauresse  was  in  my  head  too ;  but  that  is  not  a 
smaller  job.  And  I  wanted  to  see  Mrs.  De  Lang  and 
hear  what  Mr.  Smith  said. 

How  long  shall  I  have  to  wait  for  that?  I  was 
twice  at  Mrs.  DeLang's  to-day.  Nobody  was  at  home. 
I  passed  by  Mr.  Smith's  cottage.  I  came  very  near 
going  in.  What  kept  me  back  was  the  thought  of  the 
prison.  If  this  Mr.  Smith  is  that  Algie  he  must 
know  all  that  happened  and  can  not  have  forgotten. 
How  foolish  of  me  to  set  Mrs.  De  Lang  inquiring. 
Now  it  may  all  come  out.    Not  that  she  would  care. 

Evening. 

Another  scare !  Opium  Loo !  I  never  saw  much 
of  him.  I  never  met  him  particularly.  I  never  spoke 
to  him,  nor  he  to  me.  And  I  am  quite  convinced  that 
he  does  not  know  me  at  all.  M}-  hair  too  and  beard, 
growing  and  being  so  dense  and  black  make  me  look 
different.  At  least  it  must  change  my  looks  suffi- 
ciently to  make  me  not  easily  recognizable.  He  did 
not  see  me.     Yet  it  gave  me  a  scare. 

It  was  funny  as  Mrs.  De  Lang  would  say.  I  had 
gone  out  to  the  park  to  while  away  the  time  till  eve- 
ning. I  was  sitting  in  the  crowd  on  the  benches. 
The  band  was  playing.  Something  made  me  turn  my 
head  and  I  saw  him  four,  five  benches  away,  Opium 
Loo !  The  most  debased  of  the  prisoners !  The  vilest 
of  the  vile  in  that  vile  place !  As  I  saw  him  I  seemed 
to  have  known  before  that  he  would  be  sitting  there, 
that  I  should  see  him.  I  felt  like  dropping  on  my 
hands  and  knees  and  crawling  off  between  the  benches 
to  get  away  unseen  by  him.  I  believe  I  did  stoop 
somewhat  as  I  walked  off;  I  had  a  sensation  as  though 

329 


CriROXiCLi:S  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

I  did.     And  again,  thinking  the  people  might  notice 
my  stooping,  I  tried  to  straighten  up. 

I  will  put  him  away  out  of  my  mind  altogether. 
But  I  shall  have  to  be  on  the  look-out.  For  I  will 
not  know  nor  be  known  by  anybody  of  the  prison. 

Mr.  Malls  is  a  very  vain  man.  If  the  people  of  the 
United  States  of  America  are  the  vainest  of  all  peoples, 
of  a  vanity,  Ullard  would  maintain  that  is  greater 
than  that  of  all  other  peoples  together,  Mr.  Malls  is 
a  good  representative.  He  wants  to  be  flattered  and 
petted  all  the  time.  If  you  do  not  do  it,  he  does  it 
himself  for  you.  And  he  will  think  very  ill  of  you  for 
not  doing  it.  He  even  hates  to  hear  anybody  else  well 
spoken  of.  The  only  one  he  likes  to  hear  praised  is 
Mr.  Malls.  He  will  allow  no  merit  in  any  one  else, 
arrogating  to  himself  every  particle  of  it,  to  the  abuse 
of  common  sense.  And  in  this  condition  then  he 
would  not  be  like  the  American  people.  For  the 
Americans,  be  they  as  vain  as  Ullard  proclaimed  them, 
are  eminently  endowed  with  common  sense,  even  if  it 
does  not  always  so  appear. 

The  first  thing  Mr.  Malls  told  me  was  that  all  this 
place  of  his  came  out  of  his  head.  Brains  were  the 
thing,  he  said;  brains!  I  replied  I  had  heard  that  his 
head-gardener  was  a  very  competent  man. 

"My  foreman,"  he  retorted,  "was  a  mere  automaton, 
knew  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  could  do  nothing. 
I  had  first  to  tell  him  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it, 
and  then  direct  his  every  move;  in  fact  do  it  myself. 
Automaton!  You  know  what  an  automaton  is.  Well, 
automaton!  I  had  first  to  wind  him  up  and  then  set 
him  going,  and  follow  him  and  keep  following  his 
steps  to  set  him  right  at  every  turn.  You  said  head- 
gardener.  I  am  the  head-gardener.  I  am  my  own 
head-everything.    Always !" 

The  inn  connected  with  the  place  is  located  at  the 

330 


CHROXiCLES  or  MASUEL  ALASUS 

base  of  some  large,  rough  out-cropping  rocks,  form- 
ing a  sort  of  broken  wall.  A  bed  of  ferns  was  to  be 
arranged  to  fill  out  the  corner  between  the  wing  of 
the  inn  and  the  rock-wall.  I  was  sent  to  consult 
about  it  the  man  who  is  going  to  run  the  inn.  I  wa^ 
told  to  arrange  the  plantation  as  he  desired,  and  fin  1- 
ing  him  a  man  knowing  what  he  wanted  and  able  to 
communicate  his  ideas,  it  took  but  a  few  minutes  till 
I  had  several  laborers  working  planting  the  bed  of 
ferns.  Presently  Mr.  Malls  appeared  and  wanted  to 
know  what  I  was  doing.  I  began  to  explain,  when  he 
interrupted  me  saying:  "That  is  all  very  well,  but  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  I  am  the  man." 

I,  somewhat  nonplussed,  answered :  "You  sent  me 
to  this  man  and  told  me  yourself  to  get  at  what  he 
wanted  and  do  it.     And  that  is  what  I  am  doing." 

"Yes !  Yes !"  he  cried,  "that  is  all  right ;  only  I  want 
you  to  know  that  I  am  the  man." 

So  I  paid  no  further  attention  to  him,  for  that  time 

Talking  with  the  inn-keeper.  I  had  mentioned  to 
him  that  I  thought  that  a  foot-path,  laid  out  to  lead 
from  the  inn  to  the  top  of  the  rocks  would  be  quite  a 
feature  and  a  great  convenience.  As  he  concurred 
with  me,  and  as  the  costs  would  be  small,  ^  spoke 
to  Mr.  Malls  about  it  later   in  the  day. 

"The  ideal"  he  exclaimed,  "a  path  I     Ab.-nrdl" 

The  next  forenoon  he  had  me  called  to  him  and  toll 
me  he  had  an  idea  he  wished  to  communicate  to  me. 

''You  must  know  Mr.  Eguren,"  said  he,  "1  am  a 
great  thinker.  Nights,  when  you  people  lie  in  dead 
oblivion,  I  lie  awake  and  think.  And  then  I  have  ideas. 
I  have  them  not  only  then,  I  have  them  all  the  ..mie. 
I  had  an  idea  a  good  many  nights  ago,  I  may  have 
mentioned  it  at  the  time.  I  believe  I  did.  It  is  to 
have  a  path  connect  the  top  of  the  rocks  w^ith  the  inn." 

331 


CHROMCLlS  Or  MA:-!l:rL  ALAXIJS 

And  he  brought  forthwith  every  particular  of  my  proposi- 
tion of  the  day  before,  all  in  his  grandest  manner. 

I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  called  him  dov^n,  as  the 
saying  is,  if  for  no  other  reason,  to  hear  what  he 
would  say,  how  he  would  manage  to  carry  through  his 
pretense,  and  to  see  if  he  could  not  be  shamed  into 
confessing  himself  a  dissimulator  and  plagiarist.  But 
if  in  one  way  such  self-inflation  is  ridiculous  enough 
to  take  it  not  seriously,  it  is  in  another  way  too  silly 
to  be  anything  but  tiresome.  If  I  had  been  merely 
an  outsider,  I  might  have  found  the  incident  more 
funny.  As  it  was,  I  had  nothing  to  say  and  carried 
out  Mr.  Malls'  idea  in  silence. 

At  my  laying  out  of  a  sweeping  walk,  which  I  was 
working  on  the  last  thing,  the  last  day  before  the 
head-gardener  returned  and  I  took  my  discharge,  Mr. 
Malls  had  a  last  opportunity  to  show  the  peculiarity 
of  his  notions. 

He  was  looking  at  what  I  was  doinjo;-,  "By  the  by," 
he  called  to  me,  "what  is  the  radius  of  your  curve, 
Mr.  Eguren?" 

"What  curve,  Mr.  Malls?" 

"The  curve  of  your  walk." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Sir?"  I  returned. 
"I  am  laying  out  this  walk  from  the  original  plan. 
It  was  not  changed,  you  know,  when  you  changed  the 
slope." 

"That  is  all  right,  I  only  want  to  know  the  radius 
of  your  curve." 

"Do  you  mean  the  border-line  of  the  walk?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  your  curve." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  am  afraid  I  can  not  give  you  what 
you  ask;  the  line  is  altogether  too  complex  and  ir- 
regular.    Here  it  is  even  straight." 

*T  only  want  to  know  the  radius  of  your  curve.  You 
know  every  curve  must  have  a  radius." 

332 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

'*But  here  is  a  whole  collection  of  curves,  ellipses, 
parabolas,  whatever  they  are.  I  suppose  you  could 
get  their  elements,  but  I  think  you  would  have  to  get 
mathematicians  and  civil  engineers  to  do  that  for  you. 
I  am  only  a  gardener." 

I  kept  on  with  my  work,  while  he  kept  on  exclaim- 
ing: "But!  But  there  must  be  a  radius  to  every 
curve." 

September. 

Another  blank!  Perhaps  it  is  as  well.  I  called  at 
Mrs.  De  Lang's  this  morning.  She  opened  the  door 
for  me.  She  asked  me  in,  but  I  kept  my  place  on  the 
front  porch,  while  she  stood  in  the  front  door-opening, 
talking.  She  had  seen  Mr.  Smith  and  he  was  not  the 
man.  His  father  was  not  the  man  I  had  been  inquir- 
ing about;  his  father's  name  had  not  been  James 
Algernon,  but  Henry. 

She  was  dimpling  with  smiles. 

"Well!  Did  I?  Did  I?  Yes,  I  did.  I  saw  him. 
Certainly!  You  were  so  particular.  Well,  you  know 
first  off  it  went  clean  out  of  my  head.  But  when  we 
met  it  all  came  back.  He  was  very  nice.  So  since 
you  were  so  anxious  I  made  a  point  of  speaking  to 
your  friend." 

"He  is  not  my  friend.     He  never  knev/  me." 

"Well,  my  life !  How  funny  you  are !  He  does  not 
know  you  now.  I  did  not  mention  you.  How  could 
T?  I  do  not  even  know  your  name.  I  never  saw 
such  a  funny  person  as  you  in  all  my  life.  If  I  was 
to  ask  him  things,  I  had  to  meet  him  and  speak  to 
him,  had  I  not?  Well!  Well,  he  does  not  know  a 
thing  about  those  people.  He  never  heard  of  them  in 
lili  his  life.  And  bis  father's  name  was  Henry.  And 
he  died  three  years  ago ;  the  father  did.  What  are  you 
smiling  at?" 

After  this  she  told  me  Mr.  De  Lang  wished  to  see 

333 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

me  this  evening,  about  my  making  a  sketch  to  show 
somebody  how  something  could  be  laid  out.  I  don't 
know  if  I  shall  go  to  their  house  to-night.  I  wish 
I  had  remained  out  at  Mr.  Malls,  working  hard. 

To  do  something  I  walked  over  to  Mr.  Rickon's 
where  I  did  my  first  work  the  first  day.  He  was  just 
as  dull  and  lifeless  as  on  that  occasion.  But  he  had  not 
forgotten  me  and  was  willing  to  let  me  earn  a  dollar, 
setting  out  some  new  plants  that  he  had. 

I  worked  all  day  there.  Now  I  am  ready  to  go  to 
see  Mr.  DeLang.  Shall  I  really  find  him  at  home? 
I  half  incline  to  think  the  appointment  was  but  one 
of  her  slips  of  mind,  which  are  not  alwa3^s  that.  Or 
what  ? 

I  wonder  if  she  had  been  expecting  me  this  morn- 
ing? I  half  think  she  had.  But  I  hardly  believe  it 
truly. 

Her  skin,  how  beautiful !  She  is  a  little  broad- 
shouldered.  And  her  hands  are  not  small.  Her  wrists 
show  that  she  has  done  work.  All  this  seems  just 
right  for  her.  And  the  suppleness  about  her !  And 
her  full,  red  lips  with  the  dazzling  teeth !  And  her 
laughing  blue  eyes. 

Late  night. 

She  opened  the  door. 

I  thought,  I  really  for  one  moment  thought  she  was 
alone  in  the  house. 

And  she  knew  that  I  thought  so. 

Mr.  DeLang  was  in  the  office.  What  he  wanted 
of  me  was  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  grounds  for  a 
building  he  is  figuring  on  putting  some  addition  to. 
It  is  a  hospital  and  asylum  for  aged  people.  He  has 
not  yet  got  the  job,  but  expects  to  get  it  and  wants 
to  show  the  managers  or  directors  of  the  institution 
how  the  old  grounds  can  be  altered  to  suit  the  addi- 

334 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tions  to  the  buildings.  I  am  to  go  to-morrow  to  take 
a  book  at  the  old  place. 

While  we  were  at  our  business  Mrs.  DeLang  came 
into  the  room,  and  standing  back  of  our  chairs,  as 
we  were  sitting  side  by  side  at  the  table,  made  some 
remarks  about  our  pencillings  on  the  ground  plan  of 
the  lot  we  had  before  us.  I  don't  know  that  what 
she  said  was  very  witty  or  funny,  but  we  laughed  at 
it,  and  he  laughingly  told  her  to  go  away  or  he  would 
put  her  out  of  the  room,  when  she  put  her  arms  from 
behind  around  his  throat,  hugging  his  head  that  way 
tightly  to  her  bosom,  laughing  her  delicious  laugh. 
He  took  it  as  something  he  was  accustomed  to  and 
did  not  dislike.  Her  loose  sleeves  were  being  worked 
back,  leaving  her  arms  bare  to  above  the  elbows.  He 
untwined  them  while  she  playfully  resisted  him,  turn- 
ing them  so  as  to  touch  his  face  and  covering  his 
eyes  and  mouth  with  their  soft  inner  sides :  panting 
with  the  exertion,  laughing  all  the  time,  till  he  made 
moves  to  jump  up,  when  she  ran  awa}',  but  imme- 
diately came  back  with  a  box  of  candy,  offering  some 
to  us.  She  gave  us  each  a  few  pieces  from  her  haiul, 
claiming  to  have  picked  out  the  best  pieces  for  us, 
and  retired  to  a  lounge  on  the  other  side  of  the  room 
and  laid  herself  down  to  finish  the  box  of  sweets. 
She  had  carelessly  drawn  a  shawl  or  blanket  of  manv 
brilliant  colors  on  the  lounge  over  her  and  lay  there, 
her  bosom  rising  and  falling  with  her  still  agitated 
])reathing.  like  some  kind  of  lovely  feline.  One  could 
almost  expect  presently  to  be  hearing  her  purr,  and 
feel  as  though  one  must  put  out  the  hand  to  stroke  the 
A'elvety  satin  of  her  skin. 

September. 

Just  returning  from  my  early  visit  to  the  asylum 
for  a  view  of  the  grounds,  I  met  in  front  of  my  gate 
the   letter-carrier,   who  held  out   a   letter   to   me.   ask- 

335 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ing  me  if  I  knew  anybody  living  here  by  the  name 
of  the  address.  It  was  my  name.  I  don't  know  what 
did  all  rush  through  my  mind,  wondering  who  could 
be  writing  to  me.  It  is  Mr.  Snivers.  I  ought  not  to 
have  given  him  my  address.  I  did  not  want  to  do  it 
at  the  time.  But  when  he  point  blank  asked  me  for  it, 
I  told  him  the  street  and  number.  At  the  moment  I 
could  think  of  no  excuse  to  refuse  it. 

He  writes  that  I  am  to  call  on  a  certain  P.  Brown 
in  the  Mission,  who  has  some  gardening  to  be  done. 
A  brother  attorney  he  calls  him,  to  whom  I  am  to  give 
his  name  and  tell  him  that  I  am  the  man  he  recom- 
mended. Further  he  cautions  me  not  to  tell  Mr. 
Brown  anything  about  our  little  matter,  saying  I 
should  have  all  the  lawyers  in  town  after  me  if  I  talked 
about  my  case  to  any  one  of  them. 

I  well  believe  it;  and  he  does  not  even  except  him- 
self. 

Besides  this  he  writes  a  whole  lot  of  stuflF  about 
my  case  as  he  calls  it.  He  says  he  has  been  think- 
ing over  the  points  I  have  been  giving  him  and  is 
almost  certain  he  can  put  his  finger  on  the  case,  if  only 
I  will  help  him  by  giving  him  the  name ;  that  I  should 
be  satisfied  with  him  and  never  regret  having  em- 
ployed him ;  that  he  was  sure  to  win  my  case ;  that 
he  would  take  hold  as  soon  as  he  received  my  orders, 
which  he  expected  me  to  give  him  as  soon  as  I  received 
this.  Or  that,  if  I  was  too  busy,  he  would  call  on  me 
in  the  evening. 

Now,  what  shall  I  do?  I  feel  like  hiding  to  keep 
away  from  this  man.  And  yet  I  can  not  go  away  from 
this  town.  I  know  of  no  other  place  to  make  my 
living  in.  It  is  the  only  place  to  form  the  base  of  my 
operations  to  trace  my  brother;  even  if  I  could  make 
my  living  elsewhere,  I  should  always  have  to  come 
back  here. 

336 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

But  I  will  not  g-o  away.  I  will  not  hide.  1  shall 
go  to  Mr.  Snivers  and  tell  him  that  I  will  not  utter 
one  more  word  to  him  about  what  he  calls  my  case, 
and  he  can  withdraw  his  recommendation  to  Mr. 
Brown,  or  any  other  recommendation,  which  of  course 
is  meant  to  be  my  reward  for  g"iving  Mr.  Snivers  my 
case. 

Evening. 

I  was  lucky  enough  to  meet  Mr.  Snivers  on  the  point 
of  leaving  home  to  go  to  his  business.  Everything 
is  all  right.  When  I  had  told  him  what  I  had  to  say, 
it  really  seemed  unnecessary  to  have  gone  to  this 
trouble  about  this  matter,  since  he  was  so  easy  about 
it.  It  lies  in  my  nature  to  look  for  a  certain  solidity 
in  people,  stability  and  fixedness  of  purpose.  And  I 
may  say  in  general  I  find  it,  too.  That  is,  in  general 
I  find  that  people  mean  what  they  say  and  aim  at 
what  they  claim  to  pursue.  But  Mr.  Snivers  is  one 
of  those  that  know  not  what  they  pursue. 

He  had  all  but  forgotten  me.  And  this  light-head- 
edness  or  light-mindedness  fits  so  well  into  the  whole  con- 
struction of  his  character,  as  I  see  it,  that  T  have  lost  all 
apprehension  of  his  forcing  himself  on  me. 

Greedy,  sanguine  and  unscrupulous  he  scents  a  case 
in  every  word  he  hears,  and  darts  at  it.  But  only 
till  the  next  word  proves  a  stronger  scent  and  makes 
him  abandon  the  first.  He  met  Mr.  Brown  the  morn- 
ing after  I  had  worked  for  him,  and  hearing-  that  'Mr. 
Brown  wanted  a  gardener,  recommended  me,  as  being 
yet  in  his  mind.  He  had  promised  to  notify  me, 
but  forgotten  all  about  it  and  me,  till  he  had  yester- 
day in  court  met  Mr.  Brown  again  and  been  by  him 
asked  about  it.  By  the  time  I  reached  his  house  I 
had  gone  out  of  his  head  to  his  forgetting  even  my 
name  and  address.  Mr.  Brown  to  whom  he  had 
casually   told   both   and    who   remembered    them,   had 

337 


CHKOXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

to  tell  him,  so  that  he  could  write  his  letter  to  me. 
All  this  he  recounted  with  the  easiest  of  manners,  and 
when  I  thanked  him,  he  came  out  in  his  best  colors, 
asking  me  to  pay  him  a  commission  for  getting  me  the 
job.  I  had  no  money  with  me,  except  a  few  dimes 
and  nickels,  which  I  had  not  the  face  to  offer  him. 
I  told  him  so,  promising  to  pay  him  what  he  would 
ask  as  soon  as  Mr.  Brown  had  paid  me.  But  in  his 
greediness,  or  not  trusting  me,  or  both,  he  declared 
himself  in  want  of  some  car-fare  and  willing  to  take 
what  small  change  I  had  with  me,  in  satisfaction  of 
his  claim. 

*'You  give  me  what  you  have  got  about  you,"  he 
said,  "and  I  will  call  it  square.  All  right  if  that  is  all ! 
Did  you  go  through  all  your  pockets?  Put  your  hand 
in  that  one!  No  more?  How  is  this  one?  You  did 
not  put  your  hand  down  this  one,  did  you?  All  the 
way  down?  Nothing?  Feel  along  the  bottom  of 
your  vest.  Sometimes  when  there  is  a  hole  in  a  vest- 
pocket,  a  dime  and  even  a  nickel  will  slip  through  and 
lodge  in  the  lining  and  you  don't  know  it.  ^lay  be 
right  in  back!  Let  me  feel!  What  is  that?  That 
is  one !  A  dime  !  Yes,  sir  !  Sure  enough !  A  dime ! 
No,  only  a  button !  Well  I  will  take  that  button  any- 
how. I  want  just  such  a  one  on  my  drawers,  I  busted 
one  off  this  morning." 

I  knew,  of  course,  I  should  be  out  that  much  little 
change  if  his  recommendation  bore  no  fruit,  but  I 
was  most  glad  to  be  square  with  him,  by  his  own 
say  so. 

Mr.  Brown,  I  found  after  some  trouble.  The  ad- 
dress Mr.  Snivers  had  given  me  was  wrong.  But  I 
had  a  clue  in  knowing  from  Mr.  Snivers'  talk  the 
location  of  Mr.  Brown's  new  houses  where  the  garden- 
work  was  to  be  done.  I  went  there  and  kept  on  in- 
quiring among  the   neighbors   till    I   found   one   who 

338 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

could  tell  me  where  Mr.  Brown  lived.  And  there  T 
found  him  home  for  lunch.  He  walked  back  to  the 
new  houses  with  me,  explaining  on  the  way  the  gen- 
eral arrangement  of  the  whole  improvements,  as  well 
as  the  special  plan  of  each  house  or  rather  cottage 
for  it  is  a  block  of  semi-detached  cottages  Mr.  Brown 
has  had  built.  They  are  not  quite  finished  yet.  Their 
front  gardens  are  to  be  laid  out  in  flower-beds  of 
different  sizes  and  shapes.  I  think  parterres  is  the 
name  of  what  he  meant. 
I  told  him  so  at  least. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  "parterres,  to  be  sure.  No 
shrubs,  vou  know,  nor  trees!  Something  different 
from  our  regulation  front  yard  with  a  magnolia  or 
palm  in  the  centre.  Nothing  but  flowers  and  leaf- 
plants,  or  mosses,  too,  for  the  borders  and  in-betweens. 
I  shall  show  you  presently  what  I  mean.  I  have  a 
great  deal  of  taste  that  way.  And  something  differ- 
ent, you  know,  is  not  so  all  the  same." 

When  w^e  came  to  the  buildings,  I  had  to  go  over 
everything  with  him  in  person,  he  showing  me  through 
everyone  of  the  cottages  and   explaining   again   most 
minutely  their   superior  plannings   and   fittings,  but  this 
only  after   first   standing  me   up   against   a   telegraph 
pole  on  the  next  street  corner  above,  to  get  a  sort  of 
birdseye    view    of    the    place,    then    taking    me    into   the 
adjoining  house  yard  for  a  side  view,  likewise  to  an- 
other point  for  a  rear  view  and  finally  up  the  high 
front  steps  of  the  house  opposite,  for  a  front   viev/. 
I   had  to   admire   every   door   and   every   window.      I 
had   to   put   my   hand   on   the   mantelshelf   to    feel   the 
fineness  of  the  polish  of  the  wood.    I  had  to  bend  down 
to  convince  myself  to  his  satisfaction  that  I  could  not 
get  my  thumbnail  into  the  seam  of  the  flooring.    I  was 
brought  into  every  closet  and  had  the  number  of  the 
shelves  counted  out  to  me. 

339 


CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

"One,  two,  three,  four,  five  !  Five  shelves  !  Five  ! 
One  less  than  six.  Six  w^ould  be  one  more.  But 
there  would  not  be  so  much  room  above.  Or  the 
spaces  between  would  be  less.  And  if  the  spaces  be- 
tween were  less  they  would  not  be  so  far  apart.  You 
see?  Everything  thought  of !  No  space  wasted  !  Not 
an  inch,  perfectly  grand !  And  here  is  the  sink.  You 
see?  You  notice  that  door  to  the  kitchen  closet? 
Rolling!  Not  hinged,  but  rolling!  If  it  were  hinged 
it  would  not  roll  but  open  like  any  door.  This  slides. 
You  perceive?  You  wash  your  dishes  in  your  sink, 
you  push  back  the  door,  you  put  your  dishes  on  the 
shelves  in  the  closet ;  it  shuts.  Perfectly  coniplete ! 
Oh,  my  architect  is  a  grand  young  man.  And  he  has 
the  same  exquisite  taste,  that  I  have.  Taste  you  know 
is  a  great  thing.  I  have  it  from  my  mother.  My 
mother,  sir !  Oh,  grand !  She  had  that  taste  in  every- 
thing, just  perfect." 

Finally  to  come  down  to  our  business,  I  roughly 
marked  with  a  pencil  on  a  piece  of  paper  how  I 
thought  the  front  gardens  might  be  plotted,  about 
which  I  found,  as  I  had  expected,  Mr.  Brown  had  no 
clear  ideas  at  all,  but  which  he  instantly  declared 
to  be  the  way  he  always  had  wanted  them  to  be  fixed. 
It  was  only  when  we  drew  near  the  money  question 
that  he  became  cooler.  As  soon  however  as  that  was 
settled,  I  became  as  perfectly  grand  a  person  with 
him  as  the  rest,  and  was  told  to  go  right  ahead  with 
the  work. 

I  shall  do  very  well.  I  shall  have  two  Filipinos 
to  help  me.  They  are  house-servants  or  some  kind  of 
servants  of  Mr.  Brown's.  They  understand  something 
of  the  Japanese  way  of  gardening.  They  live  for  the 
time  in  one  of  the  woodsheds  of  the  cottages,  and 
they  are  to  board  me  with  themselves.  That  is  in  the 
agreement. 

340 


CHROXICLES  or  MANUEL  ALANUS 

September. 

I  left  Mr.  Brown  to-day  noon,  all  finished  with  my 
job,  paid  and  praised  to^he  skies.  Sometimes  dur- 
ing these  days  I  had  to  laugh  in  Mr.  Brown's  face. 
And  I  have  smiled  and  smiled  to  myself  till  my  face 
ached.  I  love  absurdity  to  laugh  at,  but  this  time  the 
dose  has  been  enough,  quite ;  if  I  was  to  have  more  of 
it,  it  would  cease  to  be  diverting.  And  the  childish 
vanity  of  it! 

About  the  last  thing  Mr.  Brown  had  to  say,  when 
I  was  giving  one  of  the  Filipinos  some  explanation 
about  something  he  had  done  wrongly  was  to  tell  me: 
"You  have  that  same  pleasant,  considerate  way,  that 
same  delicate  manner  of  spekaing  to  inferiors  that  I 

have." 

I  made  answer  that  1  did  not  look  on  anybody 
much  as  my  inferior ;  that  if  I  might  know  about  some 
things  more  than  others,  others  would  know  much 
more  than  I  about  other  things,  and  that  I  could 
claim  to  know  for  sure  but  one  thing,  which  was  that 
I  knew  very  little  of  anything  and  that  little  only  in  a 
confused  way.  His  reply  was  to  repeat  the  words: 
"delicate  manner;'*  and  if  he  understood  at  all  that 
T  had  meant  to  lecture  him  a  little,  he  did  not  feel. 
I  think,  that  the  shoe  fitted  him. 

How  he  can  give  any  sort  of  satisfaction  as  a  lawyer 
I  can't  conceive.  Yet  he  is  not  disagreeable,  and  he  is 
businesslike,    too,    and    not    illiberal.      He    seems   to   be 

very  well  off. 

My  experience  with  Mr.  Snivers  has  made  me  rather 
shy  of  putting  any  more  direct  questions  to  law^vers, 
but  incidentally  in  some  conversation  with  Mr.  Brown 
about  real  estate,  I  learned  that  I  could  find  out  the 
name  of  any  owner  of  any  piece  of  real  estate  here 
by  going  to  the  assessor's  office  in  the  City  Hall  and 
looking  over  the  books.     I  have  to  work  on  my  sketch 

341 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

for  Mr.  DeLang  or  I  should  go  to  the  City  Hall  now. 

September. 

Mr.  Carpenter  last  night  corroborated  Mr.  Brown's 
assertion  that  I  should  at  the  City  Hall  upon  applica- 
tion be  shown  any  one  of  the  books  containing  all 
the  blocks  and  lots  in  the  cit}^  mapped  out  and  marked 
with  the  owners'  names.  He  thought  it  strange  that  I 
should  not  know  this. 

I  have  hard  work  with  my  sketch  for  Mr.  DeLang. 
I  do  not  succeed  in  making  anything  of  it  at  all. 
All  yesterday  afternoon  I  labored  with  it,  only  to 
give  it  up  at  last  and  start  afresh  a  second  time. 
Now  I  have  started  a  third  time.  That  heaviness 
of  my  hand!  I  know  it  well  enough.  That  is  the 
cause.  The  result  of  the  hard  work  I  had  to  do  when 
a  child!  It  always  seems  strange  to  me  though,  that 
this  heaviness  of  hand  does  not  interfere  with  my  ex- 
ecution on  any  musical  instrument,  nor  my  writing, 
in  fact  anything  but  my  drawing.  So  there  must  be 
I  suppose,  something  in  drawing  requiring  a  special 
gift  which  I  do  not  possess,  outside  of  my  heavy  hand. 

September. 

My  third  sketch  is  better  than  the  other  two.  Still 
it  does  not  compare  with  the  one  I  made  for  Mr. 
Mauresse.  That  was  the  chance  effect  of  the  buoy- 
ancy of  those  days.  My  exuberant  spirits!  I  may 
never  again  succeed  so  well  with  anything  in  that  line. 
I  don't  know  how  Mr.  DeLang  will  like  this  last 
sketch.  I  shall  have  to  bring  it  to  him  to-night.  She 
will  not  think  much  of  it,  I  know. 

This  forenoon  I  am  going  to  call  at  Mrs.  Jackson's 
to  see  how  her  grounds  have  developed;  perhaps  also 
to  hear  Mrs.  Woodelin  sing.  First  how^ever  I  am 
going  to  the  City  Hall. 

Evening. 

The  property  that  was  my  father's  where  the  house 

34:2 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

stood  we  lived  in,  the  old,  brick  warehouse  and  the 
adjoining  lots  and  properties  which  were  his  too,  being 
that  whole  block  with  the  buildings  on  same  all  now 
belong  to  Mr.  Tern  Oldock;  the  other  property,  too, 
the  house  and  lot  near  South  Park.  I  presume  there 
was  a  sale,  and  he  bought  them.  Probably  the  widow 
wanted  the  cash  yet  there  must  have  been  plenty  cash. 
I  know  there  was ;  cash  and  bonds,  stocks,  notes,  mort- 
gages. 

If  she  still  owned  the  properties  or  but  one  piece, 
I  could  find  her  through  the  agent. 

My  father  owned  no  other  real  estate  in  this  city. 
He  told  me  so  himself.  And  the  name  Alanus  does 
not  appear  on  the  tax-list  of  this  town.  The  man 
in  the  assessor's  office,  looking  over  some  index  books, 
told  me  so.  But  there  w^as  the  ranch.  Perhaps  Mr. 
Tem  Oldock  has  bought  that  too,  if  it  was  sold.  I 
may  find  out.  I  suppose  I  could  write  to  the  assessor 
of  the  county.  Only  I  hate  to  give  names,  especially 
in  writing. 

I  hope  it  has  not  been  sold.  I  don't  know  what  all 
I  am  thinking  and  planning.  I  believe  in  my  mind  I 
have  worked  out  something  like  a  regular  plot,  how^ 
Harry  as  soon  as  he  is  of  age  will  come  here  and 
undertake  the  management  of  the  ranch,  and  how  I 
then  shall  go  and  hire  out  to  him  and  work  for  him. 
first  as  a  common  laborer,  till  he  finally  discovers  who 
I  am.  A  regular,  sentimental  story,  such  as  I  always 
used  to  be  thinking  out  for  myself  when  I  was  alone 
in  my  boyhood's  days.  And  perhaps  as  my  father  did 
before  me. 

Mr.  DeLang  was  or  professed  to  be  highly  pleased 
with  my  sketch.  I  found  him  alone.  His  wife  was 
not  at  home.  He  did  not  know  where  she  was.  It 
was  as  well,  he  explained  in  his  slow  way,  that  she 
was  out  because  he  would  presently  have  to  go  away 

343 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

himself,  to  confer  with  the  managers  of  that  asylum 
about  his  contract.  He  added  he  would  ask  me  to  dine 
with  him  but  that  he  had  no  time  to  dine.  I  had  just 
come  in  time  with  my  sketch.  He  had  wanted  to  take 
it  along.  He  was  glad  I  had  kept  my  word.  And  the 
sketch  was  fine.  It  would  get  him  the  job.  At  part- 
ing, with  some  hesitation,  he  asked  me  to  come  to  the 
Mauresse  residence  in  the  morning  where  I  might 
meet  Mr.  Mauresse,  who  might  say  something  to  me 
about  his  job.  Mr.  DeLang  I  fancied  was  afraid  of 
saying  too  much  about  this,  raising  my  hopes  too 
high. 

At  Mrs.  Jackson's  this  morning  I  was  well  received, 
but  I  did  not  hear  Mrs.  Woodelin  sing.  I  asked  her, 
but  she  would  not.  "She  had  been  eating  walnuts," 
she  said,  "and  she  never  could  sing  after  eating  wal- 
nuts." 

This  day  has  been  the  first  one  since  I  have  been 
back  here  all  clear  of  fog.  It  is  about  time  for  the 
season  to  change.  Perhaps  we  shall  have  rain  soon. 
I  wish  we  would.  It  is  very  smoky,  not  alone  of  the 
city's  smoke,  but  more  the  smoke  of  the  country, 
where  there  are  grass-fires  and  brush-fires  and  forest 
fires  in  all  directions  at  this  time  of  the  year,  every- 
thing being  so  dry.  All  this  smoke  mixing  with  the 
sea-fog  has  made  the  city  extra  gloomy  these  last 
weeks.  A  good  rain-storm  would  put  these  fires  all 
well  out.  And  how  fresh  and  clean  everything  looks 
after  such  a  drenching!  The  first  spring  of  the 
country!  For  California  really  has  two  springs;  one 
after  the  first  rain  and  the  second  later.  But  we 
may  not  get  our  first  rains  till  much  later.  One  never 
can  tell.  No  two  seasons  are  ever  alike.  They  are 
diilferent  every  year.  The  year  I  came  away  from  Five 
Oaks  we  had  a  very  smoky  spell,  like  this  one  now, 
before  the  rains  set  in.     I  think  however  it  was  later 

344 


CIJRO^^ICLI-S  OI'  MAM'EL  ALANUS 

in  the  year,  at  least  two  months  later  than  this  year. 
I  remember  how  anxious  everybody  was  about  the 
rain  holding  oif  so  long.  Although  at  our  place  and 
all  Fountain  Head,  water  was  always  plentiful. 

I  recollect  the  days  were  getting  very  short.  I  had 
not  missed  going  to  Fountain  Head  for  a  number  ot 
Saturdays  and  again  I  had  gone  up  this  Saturday 
forenoon,  after  getting  through  the  necessary  home- 
work for  the  days  till  I  should  be  back,  leaving  to  aid 
France  as  little  to  do  as  possible  except  to  look  out 

for  himself.  ,      ..        ,     , 

At  Fountain  Head  I  had  found  that  the  Boss  had 
left  in  the  morning,  before  dawn,  in  the  moonlight 
with  a  team  of  four  horses  and  the  carryall,  to  get  to 
the  river  landing  in  time  to  give  the  horses  a  good 
rest  before  taking  back  to  Fountain  Head  a  party  of 
three  or  four  gentlemen  who  were  coming  on  the  river- 
boat  from  the  city  to  pay  the  Boss  a  visit  of  sev- 
eral davs'  duration. 

No   particular   work    had    been    staked    out    for    me 
at  Fountain  Head,  the  Boss.  1  surmised,  being  too  much 
taken   up   with   his   expedition   and   his   arrangements 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  visitors,  to  think  of  me. 
I   could  alwavs  go  into  the   kitchen   and  lend   Sam   a 
hand,  the  cook,  or  Ho  and  Sue,  the   servant-boys  of 
all  work,  v.ho  were  nice,  clean  Chinamen,  that  I  liked 
verv  well.     This  day  they  had  to  prepare  for  a  great, 
late  supper,  and  Sam  iokingly  advised  me  to  go  home. 
because  if  I   staved  at   Fountain   Head   I   should   cer- 
tainlv   be   put   to   work    in    the   hot   kitchen,    washing 
dishes  all  the  time.     Afterwards,  remembering  this,  I 
have  sometimes  fancied  I  had  a  sort  of  presentiment 
that  that  strange  man  would  be  among  these  visitors 
of  the  Boss's.  ^It  was  only  that  I  always  expected  to 
meet  him  thus  one  day.     xAnd  for  this  I  must  remain 
on  the  spot ;  or  I  might  have  taken  Sam's  advice. 

345 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

It  was  night  when  the  team  with  the  party  arrived 
at  Fountain  Head.  Some  of  the  hired  men,  besides 
Sue  and  Ho  and  me,  were  at  the  solid  gates  leading 
from  the  farmyard  to  the  house  entrance.  A  man 
stood  at  the  leader's  heads  with  a  lantern.  Several 
others  held  lanterns.  I  had  picked  out  one  with  a  re- 
flector, which,  the  wa}^  I  held  it,  put  me  in  darkness. 
Valises,  gun-cases,  fishing-tackles,  satchels  were  being 
handed  out.  The  gentlemen  arriving  were  stepping 
from  the  wagon  by  the  rear  steps.  I  was  standing  at 
the  side,  a  little  back.  I  let  the  light  from  my  lantern 
fall  full  on  the  face  of  each  gentleman  alighting,  and 
the  last  but  one  was  he,  that  man,  that  strange  man. 

I  stepped  back  a  step.  Some  of  the  men  pressed 
forward  for  the  last  of  the  luggage.  I  let  myself 
be  crowded  back.  I  set  my  lantern  on  the  nearest 
one  of  the  small  tree-stumps  standing  in  the  farm- 
yard for  hitching  posts.  In  the  dark  I  took  a  few 
more  steps  backwards,  turned  and  walked  to  the  cor- 
ral where  my  horse  stood  saddled.  I  brought  it  out 
to  the  gate  of  the  old  North  road.  Outside  the  farm- 
yard I  tightened  the  cinch,  mounted  and  rode  slowly 
down  the  branch  road  through  the  plantations,  turn- 
ing to  the  right  around  the  bottom  of  the  park.  I 
saw  the  lights  at  the  house  above  and  heard  voices 
on  the  veranda,  laughter,  the  Boss  squeaking  above 
the  rest,  but  I  rode  no  faster  up  the  road  along  the 
hedgerow  bordering  the  park,  turning  more  to  the 
right,  leading  up  between  field-fences  to  where  it 
struck  the  wagon-road  to  Five  Oaks  and  the  valley, 
quite  beyond  the  last  outhouses  of  Fountain  Head. 
Here  was  in  the  road-fence  a  gate  which  I  could  open 
and  shut  without  dismounting,  and  as  soon  as  I  was 
in  the  road  I  put  my  horse  to  running. 

I  had  so  far  held  myself  well  in  hand,  but  now  going 
so  fast  along  the  wooded  hillside,  fleeing,  I  lost  some 

346 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

control  over  myself.  My  flesh  was  beginning  to  creep. 
Something  was  coming  on  behind  me.  I  went  faster, 
and  faster  came  after  me  the  icy  terrors.  Pursued! 
I  could  hear  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs.  They  were 
gaining  on  me.  Out  of  the  bushes  to  both  sides  black 
shapes  sprang  at  me  as  I  went  past  and  joined  in 
the  chase  behind.  Cries  and  calls  sounded.  Shots 
were  fired.  I  heard  the  bullets  whistle  over  me  and 
sing  away,  ahead. 

It  was  not  real.  It  could  not  be.  It  was  all  imagina- 
tion. I  must  stop  it.  I  pulled  up  the  horse.  All  was 
silence.    Only  the  blood  was  pumping  in  my  temples. 

I  had  gone  a  good  distance.  I  was  near  the  stony 
butte  at  the  pass  into  our  open  hill-country.  I  could 
tell  by  the  light  that  the  moon  must  be  rising,  and  as 
I  rounded  the  butte  I  rode  into  the  light  of  her  yellow 
oval,  deep  down  as  though  floating  on  the  thin  sur- 
face-mist and  smoke  which  covered  the  great  flat  val- 
ley as  if  with  a  shining  vail. 

I  was  on  the  level  stretch  of  road  along  the  high, 
narrow  ridge,  and  as  I  was  going  faster  again  till  I 
went  at  full  speed,  far  above  the  mystic  shimmer, 
spreading  as  if  into  illimitable  space,  something  took 
possession  of  me,  a  spell,  driving  me  to  dash  on  into 
what  lay  open  at  my  feet,  a  wondrous  world  of  liberty 
and  life. 

Before  this  I  do  not  know  but  what  my  ideas  had 
gone  no  farther  than  to  get  away  from  Fountain  Head 
to  Five  Oaks  and  there  to  stay  till  that  strange  man 
had  gone  away  again,  which,  I  could  be  reasonably 
sure  would  be  in  one  week's  time,  or  less,  the  Boss's 
hospitality  being  as  short-lived  as  lavish  during  its 
limited  periods,  no  visitor  being  well  endured  longer 
than  a  week's  time. 

Now  my  thoughts  were  on  the  road  well  known  to 

347 


CHRO\'ICLliS  OF  MANUEL  ALAXUS 

tliein,   down  the  hills  to  the  valley,  to  the   river,   down 
the  river  to  the  city  by  the  bay. 

What  all  was  at  work  in  me,  w'ho  can  tell?  The 
terrors  were  shrunk  back.  Yet  they  were  still  there 
behind  me,  only  a  little  more  distant,  and  I  still  felt 
their  power,  as  I  always  did.  Before  me  lay  a  world 
in  part  remembered  as  full  of  sweetest  life.  And  in 
it  was  at  least  one  figure  I  could  try  to  follow  and  hope 
to  find,  Mr.  Tem  Oldock.  He  was,  I  believe,  never 
out  of  my  thoughts  since  I  had  met  him  at  Purple 
Creek ;  and  the  finding  of  him  again  meant  to  me  the 
getting  back  to  all  I  had  lost  when  I  was  taken  from 
the  old  wharf,  as  my  meeting  him  had  brought  back 
to  me  the  hope  and  joy  of  the  belief  in  the  return  to  me 
of  my^  happiness. 

But  one  sensation  was  dominant  in  me,  I  know. 
I  feel  it  yet.  Exultation !  I  had  escaped.  The  dangers 
I  well  knew,  I  should  have  to  face  again  and  again, 
and  finally  succumb.  But  I  had  escaped  this  time. 
Just  so  I  should  have  planned  my  flight  if  I  had 
planned  it.  And  had  I  not?  Just  such  a  meeting  I 
had  been  prepared  for,  and  had  been  on  the  spot, 
at  my  post,  and  had  succeeded  in  getting  away.  No- 
body would  know,  nobody  could  suspect.  The  Boss 
would  be  busy  with  his  visitors  till  they  departed. 
If  he  at  all  inquired  for  me,  he  would  be  told  that  I 
had  been  at  Fountain  Head  until  his  arrival  with  his 
guests  and  would  only  think  I  had  gone  back  to  Five 
Oaks,  on  the  natural  conclusion  that  so  many  guests 
must  keep  him  from  attending  to  anything  but  them. 
I  could  safely  calculate  on  two  weeks  to  elapse  before 
he  would  send  or  come  for  me,  while  old  France  would 
make  no  move  to  find  out  anything  about  me,  suppos- 
ing me  to  be  kept  by  the  Boss  at  Fountain  Head.  All 
the  chances  were  that  long  before  I  came  to  be  really 
missed  and  talked  about,  that  strange  man  would  be 

348 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

gone  away  again  from  Fountain  Head  without  hearing- 
a  single  word  to  awaken  the  least  suspicion  or  doubt 
or  thought  in  him,  referring  to  me. 

The  only  thing  that  might  be  a  little  doubtful  was 
the  sending  back  of  my  horse  from  the  river.  It  would 
go  back,  I  was  sure.  It  had  not  long  ago  been  twice 
over  the  road  with  a  man  from  Fountain  Head,  who 
was  working  in  our  fields.  For  the  rest  I  must  trust  to 
old  France's  lack  of  perception,  which  would  prevent 
his  noticing  the  horse  when  it  did  come  back.  Most 
likely  he  would  never  know  it  had  been  away.  But  I 
must  do  away  with  the  bridle  and  saddle. 

At  the  accommodation  gate  in  our  Five  Oaks  fence  my 
horse  wanted  to  stop.  It  hardly  knew  any  other  way  to 
go  over  the  trail  through  our  bottom  lands  to  the  road  up 
our  hill.  Farther  along  where  the  road  ran  around  the 
last  spur  of  hill  land,  due  west  from  Five  Oaks  I  turned 
to  look  back.  From  one  rear  window  of  our  house  a 
piece  of  the  road  here  was  visible,  and  now,  the  moment 
T  looked  back,  I  saw  on  the  black  hill  the  light  in  the  little 
house. 

How  often,  later  in  life  have  I  thought  of  that  soli- 
tary light  and  seen  in  my  mind  the  old  man,  poring  b)- 
it  over  our  schoolbooks,  preparing  problems  and  themes 
and  lessons  for  me  that  he  was  never  more  to  teach,  and 
have  felt  that  I  treated  him  almost  like  a  criminal,  almost 
as  if  I  was  then  basely  deserting  him,  I,  the  only  one  left, 
the  last  of  his  life's  interests ! 

Down,  round  the  hills,  at  their  base,  the  road  v/ent  on 
winding.  I  must  be  near  the  point  where  the  river  road 
came  up  tlie  valley.  The  shadows  of  brush  and  rocks 
and  weeds  and  every  little  unevenness  lay  on  the  whitish, 
moonlit  ground  so  black  it  v.'ould  look  solid  and  like  some- 
thing lying  there  in  wait.  A\^here  the  shadov/s  of  trees 
on  the  bluiT  fell  across  the  road  all  was  black  as.  though 
there   was   an   abyss.     Viy   horse   stopped.     I   could   not 

349 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

recognize  anything.  I  heard  the  tinkhng  of  water.  It 
must  be  in  the  watering  barrel  at  the  spring.  I  gave  my 
horse  the  reins  to  go  and  find  the  water  barrel  and  drink. 
When  it  was  through  drinking  it  wanted  to  go  back  the 
Five  Oaks  way.  I  had  to  pull  it  round.  I  could  make 
out  the  river  road  now.  I  thought  I  recognized  the  water 
course  with  its  bushes,  along  which  I  went.  It  was  draw- 
ing away  from  the  road.  The  road  became  evener.  The 
land  grew  flat  and  spread  out  level  and  empty  under  the 
moon.  I  could  go  faster  now.  I  was  sure  I  was  on 
the  right  road.  The  air  grew  cooler  and  thicker  with 
smoke  and  vapor.  The  moonlight  formed  queer,  long- 
drawn  shafts  in  it  and  streaks  crowding  together  ahead, 
but  always  scattering  as  I  came  near. 

Often  I  heard  sounds.  Some,  I  knew,  were  of  travel- 
ing birds.  At  times  I  fancied  I  caught  the  noise  of  some- 
thing moving  on  the  road  behind,  and  turning  in  the  sad- 
dle I  saw,  I  thought,  something  coming  on.  But  it  never 
came  any  nearer. 

Once  I  saw  a  light.  That  was  not  imagination.  It 
hung  above  the  valley's  floor.  I  knew  it  must  be  a  brush 
fire  on  some  far-away  hill. 

The  road  went  on  straight  and  straight.  There  were 
more  fences  than  I  remembered.  A  dark  streak  in  front 
of  me  made  me  wonder,  if  already  I  had  come  to  the 
river.  It  was  a  long  field  of  something  growing,  irri- 
gated alfalfa,  I  thought  it  was,  extending  along  both  sides 
of  the  road.  A  small  noise  from  one  side,  far  away, 
sounded  a  little  like  the  barking  of  a  dog,  but  so  faint,  I 
could  not  be  sure.  I  remembered  some  talk  I  had  heard 
at  Fountain  Head,  months  ago,  that  some  ])eople  had 
bought  farm  land  in  the  valley  and  settled  there.  This 
might  be  the  place.  I  was  glad  when  I  had  passed  it.  I 
rode  fast. 

The  fog  and  smoke  had  thickened  so  as  to  hide  the 
moon.     I  had  just  thought  it  must  be  drawing  near  morn- 

350 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ing  when  I  felt  my  horse  noticing  something  ahead.  Sud- 
denly it  grew  quite  clear.  It  was  light  in  the  east.  The 
road  went  down  a  short  sag  in  the  ground,  and  up  again 
to  the  top  of  a  little  swell,  and  I  saw  the  glint  of  the 

river. 

I  knew  the  sag  in  the  ground.  x\nd  I  knew  the  reedy 
grass,  bordering  the  water,  but  everything  else  was  un- 
known to  me.  There  were  no  gardens,  no  plantations. 
I  had  heard  there  had  been  an  inundation  of  this  part  of 
the  big  valley  last  winter,  but  I  had  had  no  idea  what 
that  meant.  The  Chinese  camp  was  all  gone.  No  build- 
ings of  any  kind  were  to  be  seen.  Yet  there  must  be  a 
landing  somewhere,  for  the  Boss  certainly  had  fetched 
his  visitors  from  this  place.  So  I  followed  the  road  turn- 
ing down  the  river,  till  I  came  to  it,  below  where  the 
Chinese  camp  had  been.  It  was  larger  and  run  out  a 
good  deal  farther  into  the  river  than  the  former  wharf 
had  been.  A  lot  of  firewood  was  piled  upon  it,  which 
made  it  look  again  more  like  the  former  landing. 

I  dismounted  and  took  the  saddle  and  bridle  off  the 
horse  and  started  to  drive  it  back  on  the  road.  I  walked 
back  with  it  a  little  beyond  the  swell  and  hollow  in  the 
road,  gave  it  a  slap  and  told  it  to  go  home,  as  we  used 
to  do  in  the  fields  of  Five  Oaks  when  we  sent  a  horse 
home.  It  walked  a  few  steps  and  stood  still,  looking 
round  at  me.  Then  I  ran  to  it,  petted  it,  ran  with  it  a 
short  distance,  slapped  it  again,  telling  it  to  go  home; 
and  it  went,  gradually  going  faster,  till  pretty  soon  I 
could  not  see  it  any  more,  nor  hear  it.     And  then  I  began 

to  be  sorry. 

I  walked  back  to  the  landing.  I  twisted  the  bridle  to- 
gether and  flung  it  into  the  river  as  far  as  I  could.  It 
did  not  make  a  loud  splash,  which  I  took  for  a  sign  that 
it  had  gone  down  well.  The  saddle  I  dragged  to  the 
edge  of  the  wharf  planking  and  tumbled  it  over.  It  made 
a  good  splash.     I  went  behind  the  woodpile  and  listened, 

351 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

concluding  if  anybody  at  all  were  near,  they  would  show 
themselves  now  to  find  out  what  that  splash  had  been. 
]  did  hear  some  noises  too,  some  rustling  in  the  tule- 
grass,  sounding  very  much  like  a  boat  being  pushed 
through  them,  but  I  judged  it  to  be  only  the  movement 
of  marsh  birds. 

It  was  daylight  now.  Far  away,  where  our  hills  must 
be,  the  tule-fog  hung  whitish.  I  had  always  liked  the 
low  fogs  coming  round  our  hills  like  the  waters  of  the 
bay.     I  had  a  feeling  now,  wishing  I  were  there  to  see  it. 

I  heard  what  must  be  the  noise  of  the  steamboat.  1 
saw  her  smoke.  She  was  quite  near.  From  her  smoke- 
stack the  smoke  was  streaming  away,  studded  with  sparks. 
The  whistle  blew.  Hardly  had  she  been  made  fast  be- 
fore a  gang  plank  was  run  out.  and  the  deck  hands  went 
to  work  taking  in  firewood. 

I  went  right  on  board  on  the  lower  deck,  nobody  mind- 
ing me.  I  moved  about  carelessly  till  I  found  a  good, 
dark  place,  abaft  the  engine  from  where  I  could  see  the 
gangplank  and  everybody  coming  on  board.  Some 
freight  was  stored  there  on  which  some  people  were 
sitting  and  lying,  half  asleep,  and  there  I  laid  me  down 
as  though  asleep. 

T  thought  the  taking  in  of  the  firewood  never  would 
end.  Every  time  one  of  the  steamer's  crew  came  passing 
by,  I  felt  as  though  he  must  be  looking  for  me,  and  al- 
though I  had  one  of  my  five-dollar  pieces  ready  to  pay  my 
fare,  I  dreaded  being  spoken  to,  questioned  and  having 
to  invent  some  untruthful  replies,  which  always  was  my 
weak  point.  All  the  time  people  were  passing  by  the 
place  where  I  lay :  deckhands  and  officers  too.  One  time 
one  thrust  a  lantern  right  in  my  face,  hut  he  did  not  look 
at  me.  only  behind  mo.  looking  for  a  {package  or  box,  ex- 
cusing himself  to  me  for  disturbing  mo.  No  one  ever 
asked  for  my  fare. 

.\t  last  the  boat  v.n<  niovins'.  working  an'l  creakino^  a 

35^ 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

good  deal,  and  tl-.en  I  fell  asleep;  and  when  T  awoke  I 
found  we  were  on  a  big  water,  which  must  be  the  bay, 
and  it  must  be  afternoon.  Some  country  people  were 
on  board.  They  were  keeping  together  as  if  they  were 
neighbors  at  home.  I  went  to  stand  near  them  on  the 
lower,  forward  deck  and  kept  as  close  to  them  as  was 
feasible,  so  that  to  any  casual  observer  it  might  appear 
that  I  belonged  to  them.  Some  boys  were  with  them 
and  they  spoke  to  me.  They  did  not  ask  me  where  I 
came  from  ;  they  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  I  was 
from  the  steamer-town  on  the  river.  They  were  friendly 
children.  I  liked  them.  And  I  well  remember  the  deso- 
late feeling  I  regarded  them  with,  longing  in  my  heart  to 
be  like  them  v;ith  folks  of  my  own.  One  of  them  gave 
me  a  couple  of  applies  which  I  wa=  very  glad  to  get  to 
eat  as  I  was  very  hungry. 

Looking  ahead,  I  saw  that  we  were  coming  to  a  big 
place  of  a  lot  of  houses  on  hilly  ground,  all  in  smoke  and 
fog.  It  must  be  the  city.  A  cold  wind  was  blowing 
sharph.'.  I  seemed  to  know  the  wind.  I  seemed  to  know 
some  of  the  hills  round  about  too.  And  I  knew  the  water. 
It  w^as  past  slack  water.  In  the  water,  in  a  winding  line, 
was  a  long  fringe  string  of  fruit  and  vegetables  and  other 
things,  orange-,  potatoes  strav;.  boxe=.  which  showed  the 
edge  of  the  incoming  tide  a^  I  had  seen  it  hundreds  of 
times.  A  couple  of  fishing  boats  were  slipping  by;  sev- 
eral steamers  were  moving;  a  ferryboat  came  quite  close 
in  a  rush  of  foam. 

We  were  at  the  tov;n.  It  was  all  houses  and  shipping 
and  wharves.  I  knew  none  of  it.  We  were  hauling  up 
to  a  v.'harf.  which  was  enclosed  like  a  shed.  Many  people 
were  standing  there,  looking  up  at  u^.  Some  street  boy.s 
were  about.  I  noticed  their  eying  me.  and  I  knew  I 
should  have  to  fight  some  of  them  ^ome  time.  One  of 
them  looked  particularly  hard  at  me.  He  was  dressed  a 
good  deal  as  I  was,  in  overalls  and  gray,  flannel  shirt. 

353 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

When  I  left  the  boat  in  the  crowd  I  found  myself  at  the 
bottom  of  the  gangway  face  to  face  with  him  and  he 
looked  as  if  he  might  pitch  into  me  then  and  there,  only 
that  he  thought  I  belonged  to  the  people  I  was  with.  I 
see  his  tough,  blocky  face  now,  as  I  think  of  it. 

The  people  kept  on  crowding.  We  had  come  through 
the  gate  of  the  wharf-shed  and  were  in  the  open  street. 
There  was  a  deafening  noise  of  thundering  trucks, 
thumping  carts,  screaming  of  steam  whistles,  shouting  and 
calling  of  men,  ringing  and  clanging  of  bells.  A  violent 
wind,  damp  with  rushing  fog  and  dusky  gray  with  smoke 
and  dust  almost  held  me  pinned  to  the  side  of  the  shed. 
The  stream  of  passengers  landed  from  the  steamboat,  was 
drifting  away  from  me,  and  I  followed  the  scattering 
drift  till  it  was  all  scattered,  and  one  might  wonder  what 
had  become  of  it. 

If  there  is  anything  I  can  recall  vividly  it  is  my  turning 
back  to  go  into  an  eating  house  I  had  just  passed,  to 
ask  for  work,  so  as  not  to  have  to  spend  any  of  my  ten 
dollars  for  getting  something  to  eat  which  I  wanted  badly. 
The  place  was  quite  empty.  When  I  spoke  to  a  waiter 
standing  in  the  doorway,  two,  three  other  waiters  came 
up  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say.  and  they  were  so  pleasant, 
1  had  at  first  great  hopes  they  would  put  me  to  work  right 
away.     But  I  got  no  work  and  nothing  to  eat. 

zA.fter  that  I  went  to  every  eating  house  on  the  street, 
asking  if  there  was  any  work  for  me  to  do  in  payment 
for  a  meal.  Without  knowing  it  I  was  imitating  Hants 
in  one  of  his  exploits  he  more  than  often  told  me  of,  when 
he  had  one  time  come  to  the  city,  dead  broke,  and  had 
gone,  as  I  did  now,  to  every  eating  house  on  the  water 
front  asking  for  work  in  exchange  for  something  to  eat, 
till  he  had  gotten  it.  I  came  very  near  giving  it  up, 
though.  Everywhere  I  was  told  I  was  too  small,  too 
young.  Some  of  the  restaurant  men  offered  to  give  me 
a  meal  if  I  had  no  money  to  pay  for  one.     But  that  I 

354 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

would  not  accept.  One  stung  me  prett\'  badly  by  telling 
me  I  was  too  dirty  looking  for  his  place.  Upon  my  then 
asking  him  in  reply  to  let  me  go  to  his  yard-sink  and 
wash  myself,  he  ordered  me  out  of  his  shop.  I  was  some- 
what dusty,  I  suppose. 

For  all  this  I  kept  on  asking  for  work  till  I  struck  the 
coffee  saloon  of  Bob,  who  set  me  to  work  washing  dishes, 
and  where  I  remained.  It  was  a  very  small  place  with  a 
short  counter  with  turn-stools  in  front,  a  narrow  gas 
range  behind  the  counter,  and  a  few  tables  and  chairs  in 
back. 

Bob's  real  name  was,  he  told  me  the  first  thing,  Mr. 
Duncan  Hamilton  ;  and  he  laid  such  stress  on  it  that  I 
thought  he  rather  disliked  being  called  Bob,  and  there- 
fore started  in  to  call  him  Mr.  Hamilton :  but  very  soon 
found  out  that  he  believed  I  did  it  to  make  fun  of  him, 
and  desisted,  easing  it  off  with  calling  him  Mr.  Bob  for 
awhile. 

Another  thing  he  told  me  right  away  as  he  set  me  to 
work  was  that  if  the  union  came  after  him  he  would  have 
to  let  me  go ;  but  his  place  being  so  small  and  out  of  the 
way  they  generally  left  him  alone,  as  he  usually  did  all 
his  own  work,  too.  For  if  he  had  to  hire  help  he  could 
not  make  expenses.  To  me.  however,  it  appeared  that 
he  would  have  done  better  if  he  had  had  at  least  one  man 
to  help  him  serve  his  customers,  who  came  all  in  a  crowd 
and  rush  at  meal  times.  And  how  he  had  done  without 
me,  I  could  not  see  at  all. 

For  this  reason  I  ventured  next  day  to  stay  there  and 
go  to  work  unbidden,  and  then  day  after  day,  continuing 
steadily  to  work.  And  since  I  asked  for  no  pay,  only  my 
meals  and  a  sleeping  place  on  the  shelf  on  the  back  porch, 
he  was  very  willing  to  have  me  retain  my  position  as  part 
dish  washer  and  part  waiter,  even  after  I  took  up  boot- 
blacking. 

He  w^as  very  close  and  stingy,  which  of  course  I  must 

355 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

have  quickly  noticed  after  the  Hberalness  I  had  at  Five 
Oaks  been  used  to,  and  been  taught  by  both  my  men  to 
consider  proper  and  due  to  myself  to  practice  under  all 
circumstances.  He  was  suspicious  too.  Behind  the  shop 
on  the  back  porch  was  a  closet,  a  sink  and  a  washtub, 
where  some  of  the  customers  would  wash  themselves  be- 
fore eating,  and  where  I  daily  washed  myself  and  washed 
my  clothes,  and  to  which  place,  being  ready  at  hand,  pri- 
vate and  rather  dark,  I  would,  during  the  first  week  or 
two  slip  out  and  pretend  to  do  some  washing,  or  even  go 
hiding  in  the  closet,  when  overcome  by  the  paroxysms  of 
my  homesick  despair.  Then  Bob  would  be  watching,  ner- 
vously speculating  wdiat  I  could  be  up  to,  suspecting  I 
don't  know  what ;  always  looking  for  some  hidden  mean- 
ing of  what  was  said  and  done. 

Equally  great  was  his  inquisitiveness,  but  as  he  had 
a  way  of  partially  answering  his  own  questions,  and  being 
as  credulous  as  he  was  suspicious,  it  was  never  difficult  to 
thwart  his  endeavors  to  find  out  what  one  did  not  want 
him  to  know,  and  without  having  to  take  the  trouble  of 
making  up  much  of  a  story. 

Such  particulars  1  observed  the  first  days,  I  may  say 
without  really  seeing,  or  understanding  and  knowing,  be- 
ing so  disqualified  by  my  homesickness.  And  yet  I  had 
to  hold  myself  enough  together  to  undergo  an  almost 
regular  examination  the  first  evening  after  business  was 
over. 

The  very  first  thing  of  all  Bob  wanted  to  know  was  if 
T  knew  the  ten  commandments.  And  when  I  told  him  I 
knew  them  both  in  Spanish  and  in  English,  but  not  so  well 
in  English,  he  made  me  say  them  in  both  languages  and 
corrected  me  where  I  was  wrong  in  English.  I  had  to 
promise  him,  too,  that  I  would  repeat  them  to  myself 
every  morning  and  evening. 

That  T  had  ten  dollars  in  gold  he  very  soon  had  made 
me  acknowledge.     He  wanted  me  to  leave  them  with  him 

356 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

for  safe  keeping,  but  I  told  him,  I  had  promised  the  man 
who  gave  them  to  me  to  keep  them  myself,  and  he  said 
no  more  about  that. 

I  did  once  give  him  some  money  to  keep  for  me,  but 
that  was  later,  and  I  did  not  get  it  back.  But  in  justice 
to  him  I  must  state  that  I  do  not  know  if  he  was  the  one 
that  kept  it  from  me. 

He  was  too  distrustful  to  let  me  sleep  in  the  shop  on  one 
of  the  tables,  but  he  allowed  me  to  lay  myself  down  on 
the  wide  shelf  on  the  open  porch  in  the  rear  of  the  shop 
the  first  night.  Before  long,  however,  he  repented  of 
having  given  this  permission,  and  after  locking  the  shop 
and  going  to  his  lodgings  he  came  back  to  tell  me  he  would 
rather  I  should  pick  out  for  me  a  place  to  lie  in  and  sleep 
in  the  old  lumber  yard  that  surrounded  the  porch  and  tlie 
house  on  three  sides.  I  was  by  this  time  feeling  so  miser- 
able that  I  hardly  cared  what  became  of  me,  but  because 
I  did  not  want  him  to  see  me  cry,  I  pretended  after  the 
first  moment  of  alarm  at  his  reappearance  to  be  dead 
asleep  when  he  came  to  talk  to  me.  And  I  heard  all  his 
doubts  and  considerations,  never  moving,  till  he  had  talked 
himself  out,  had  lingered  in  irresolute  silence  for  some 
time,  had  gone  away,  had  come  back  a  second  time  to  look 
at  me  once  more,  finally  going  away  for  good,  leaving  me 
to  my  untenable  relief  alone  with  my  agony. 

If  I  had  been  unhappy  before  with  homesick  grief,  what 
was  I  now ! 

I  slept  from  exhaustion,  to  awake  to  the  same,  horrible 
noise  in  the  early  morning,  the  smoke  and  flying  mist  and 
dust,  the  dirt,  the  foul  smells,  the  cold,  damp  wind ! 

Was  this  the  home  I  once  had  pined  for?  And  had  I 
fondly  listened  for  this  roar  of  the  streets,  which  now 
nearly  drove  me  out  of  my  head,  and  which  it  seemed 
impossible  ever  to  get  away  from  ? 


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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Aiul  thus  it  appears  to  me  to  have  been  continually  dur- 
ing the  whole  following  couple  of  months  of  my  stay  in 
the  city.  Whenever  my  thoughts  go  back  to  this  period 
of  my  life,  they  are  accompanied  by  a  feeling  as  though 
the  dirty  gloom  of  smoke  and  dust  and  fog,  covering  and 
infolding  the  big  town,  had  bodily  fallen  on  me,  staining 
every  observation,  dulling  all  perceptions,  tainting  every 
emotion,  darkening  my  whole  soul,  being  as  much  cause 
as  effect  of  the  outbreak  of  my  inborn  melancholy,  which 
now  came  into  fullest  play. 

1  felt  nothing  but  my  homesick  misery,  knew  nothing 
to  do  but  to  give  myself  up  to  it :  hiding  the  unoccupied 
moments  of  the  day  and  the  blessed  nights,  lying  crying 
in  secret  places,  mostly  the  recesses  of  the  old  lumber 
yard  in  back  of  our  shop.  My  longing  for  the  places  1 
had  left  in  the  country  was  so  intense,  there  were  mo- 
ments when  the  mere  recollecting,  the  thinking  of  the 
little  house  on  the  hill,  of  but  the  rounding  up  of  the  hill- 
side against  the  sky,  of  but  a  broken  fence  rail,  a  dry  leaf 
on  the  ground,  was  enough  to  unman  me. 

What  I  could  at  the  same  time  distinguish  enough  so  as 
to  strike  me  as  peculiar  was  that  in  my  melancholy  griev- 
ing, there  was  a  certain  satisfaction,  in  my  very  unhappi- 
ness  a  definite  sweetness,  which  made  me  abandon  myself 
to  it  the  more.  And  I  could  also  at  that  time  remember 
that  it  had  been  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same  at  Five 
Oaks,  when  I  was  so  very  homesick  at  my  first  coming 
there.     Only  now  it  was  worse. 

Perhaps  it  made  me  more  indifferent  to  what  might 
happen  to  me;  and  I  may  have  been  the  better  off  for 
that.  My  dreams,  certainly,  visited  me  very  seldom  dur- 
ing this  time.  And  if  the  old  terrors  were  still  there, 
why  should  I  care  ?  Was  it  not  all  misery  and  wretched- 
ness anyhow  ? 

How  I  first  came  to  gain  some  self-conscious  insight 
into  the  questions  and  conditions  of  my  present  life  and 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

being,  and  then  to  reason  on  them,  to  suspect  the  harmful- 
ness  of  my  immoderate  grieving,  the  mischief  of  it  to 
myself,  and  how  I  first  began  to  become  sensible  that 
I  must  subdue  it,  exert  myself,  force  myself  to  it,  all  this 
1  know  but  so  little  of  that  I  cannot  attempt  to  think  it 
out  and  tell  it ;  but  the  comprehension  did  come  and  the 
resolution.  And  I  think  it  is  again  the  old  German  school- 
master, whom  principally  I  have  to  thank  for  teaching 
me  so  much  self -observation  and  self-discipline,  and  I 
owe  nearly  as  much  to  the  personally  direct  and  more 
practical  treatment  of  Hants  and  his  example. 

And  again  I  must  give  my  passionate  grieving  credit 
for  doing  me  what  perhaps  was  a  great  advantage.     For 
my  homesickness  was  not  alone  my  longing  for  the  homes 
I  had  lost,  it  was  my  child's  heart's  craving  for  father  and 
mother,  the  despair  of  the  homeless,  the  feeling  of  the 
nothingness  of  life  without  some  one  to  cherish  and  be 
loved  by.    If  I  had  never  met  my  father  at  the  time  I  did, 
if  at  that  time  of  my  life  I  had  not  known  anybody  to 
show  me  affection  and  whom  I  learned  to  love  so  passion- 
ately, everything  would  have  been  different.     The  life  at 
the  old  wharf  would  never  have  become  the  most  hal- 
lowed, which  it  was,  of  all  my  life.     Homesick  I  should 
ever  have  been,  but  never  to  the  extent  that  shaped  my 
whole  life.   I  should  have  been  drawn  away  from  it  easier, 
brought  to  mingle  with  the  crowd  that  grows  up  in  the 
streets.     And  who  can  promise  that  in  spite  of  all  the 
principles  I  had  been  given,  I  might  not  have  been  one 
of  the  many  of  that  crowd  who  founder  and  are  lost  m 
the  ocean  of  evil  in  their  surroundings.     Now,  quite  a 
child  yet  and  belonging  to  nobody,  all  alone  in  my  misery, 
thinking  with  tenderness  of  everyone  I  ever  had  known, 
feeding  even  on  loving  memories  of  our  most  obstrep- 
erous pigs  at  Five  Oaks,  the  giving  myself  up  altogether 
to  my  sorrow  isolated  me.     I  was  kept  to  myself,  away 
from  associations  only  too  vicious  and  eager  to  corrupt. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

From  time  to  time  came  to  me  the  recollection  of  my 
father,  and  he  alv/ays  appeared  to  me  as  different  from 
other  people  as  he  ever  had  done.  I  had,  I  very  v^^ell 
knew,  actually  belonged  to  Nick  and  Nello  at  that  time 
more  than  to  him,  and  later  much  more  to  Hants  and 
France,  even  more  to  the  Boss,  to  Jim,  and  Antonio  be- 
fore, and  to  Bob  now,  but  he  had  always  belonged  to  me. 
Fie  had  loved  me  as  nobody  else  ever  had.  And  he  loved 
me  and  belonged  to  me  still.  I  do  not  remember  that  I 
ever  wondered  who  he  was,  where  he  might  be,  if  I  should 
ever  meet  him  again.  It  seems  I  should  have  done  so, 
but  I  do  not  remember  that  I  did. 

Of  the  other  man  I  had  less  apprehension  than  at  Foun- 
tain Head,  and  I  tried  to  think  still  less  about  him.  Yet, 
one  evening,  when  for  some  purpose  I  had  gone  up  town 
to  the  main  shopping  streets  of  the  city  and  saw  walking 
right  before  me  on  the  crowded  sidewalk  in  the  bright 
light  of  the  show  windows  a  man  who  looked  so  much 
like  him  it  very  likely  was  he,  I  felt  the  terrors  as  near  as 
at  Fountain  Head. 

It  may  have  been  my  father.  For  however  it  was,  the 
image  in  me  of  Richard  Alanus  to  my  father  had  to  a 
great  extent  driven  the  one  image  of  my  father  out  of 
my  mind,  extinguished  it,  or  rather  absorbed  it.  I  could 
call  up  something  of  the  look  of  my  father's  eyes,  his 
manner,  the  touch  of  his  hand,  but  not  much  else.  When 
I  (lid  see  him  again  I  thought  at  the  first  moment  it  was 
the  other. 

I  never  again  went  to  the  main  shopping  parts  of  the 
town. 

I  did  go  once  to  the  old  wharf.  That  is  I  believe  I 
must  have  gone  there.  I  remember  nothing  about  it,  but 
there  is  in  me  a  picture  of  the  old  wharf  the  existence 
of  which  I  can  hardly  explain,  except  I  really  saw  the 
wharf  that  way.     It  shows  perfectly  plain  the  wharf  at 

360 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

dawn,  reflected  on  die  calm  surface  of  die  bay   the  boats 
gone,  the  shanty  gone,  the  whole  place  deserted. 

The  shanty  was  burnt  down  and  the  planknig  charred, 
that  is  the  reason  why  I  think  I  must  actually  have  seen 
the  place      For  I  did  not  then  know  the  shanty  was  burnt 
down.     Otherwise  I  should  not  believe  I  had  been  there 
at  all      I  had  a  very  strong  feeling,  I  know,  of  its  being 
a  very  unsafe  place  for  me  to  go  to,  apt  to  be  visited 
and  watched  by  any  pursuer  of  mine.     It  is  possible  of 
course  that  I  had  accidentally  learned  and   ajtervvards 
forgotten  that  the  shanty  was  burnt  down  and  that  the 
picture  in  my  mind  is  a  product  of  my  imagination  or  a 
dream   of  either  of  which  I  am  not  conscious.     For  one 
thing  i  should  think  it  very  strange,  if  I  did  find  my  way 
some  early   morning  along   the  water   front  to  the   old 
wharf,  that  I  then  should  not  have  gone  to  Mr.    iem 
Oldock's  old  brewery,  which  I  did  not  do,  or  I  should 

know  it.  ,     .         , . 

Once  I  recollect  being  far  uptown,  wandering  about, 
going  up  very  steep  streets  and  getting  a  far  and  wide 
view  over  the  city,  so  extensive  indeed,  that  I  felt  amazed 
at  the  size  of  the  town. 

I  have  no  idea  of  having  any  object  in  going  there,  but 
I  fancy  I  went  to  look  if  I  could  place  our  wharf,      ihe 
day  was  clear  of  fog  and  there  was  but  little  wind, 
think  it  was  very  late  in  the  year,  and  the  ram  was  still 
holding  off.     The  smoke  was  spread  over  the  whole  city 
and  out  to  sea.     It  was  like  seeing  things  through  a  thm. 
dirty  black  veil.     One  house   I   especially  remember    a 
fine  house  with  a  high  front  wall  of  straw-colored  bricks, 
steps  of  white  stone  and  wide  circle-head  windows  with 
glass  that  was  polished  like  a  mirror.     At  one  of  the  win- 
dows between  the  pushed-back,  crimson  and  white  drap- 
ery stood  a  boy,  a  very  handsome  boy,  bigger  than  I  very 
nicely  dressed.     I  stood  still  and  looked  at  him.     He  did 
not  look  at  me,  although  he  must  have  seen  me.     Pretty 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

soon  he  glanced  at  me  and  with  a  contemptuous  face 
turned  away  behind  the  curtains.  And  I  remember  per- 
fectly walking  away,  saying:  "I  am  just  as  good  as  you." 
After  the  first  night  Bob  had  nothing  more  to  say 
against  my  sleeping  on  the  porch.  I  hated  it  because  it 
was  so  dirty  and  could  not  be  kept  clean,  but  its  great 
advantage  was  the  nearness  and  accessibility  of  the  old 
lumber  yard  on  the  sides  and  rear.  I  could  climb  up  the 
stacks  to  the  top  in  scores  of  places  and  get  away  in  all 
directions  from  any  pursuer.  It  was  sheltered  too  by 
different  shed  roofs  and  full  of  hiding  places ;  and  it  was 
not  infested  with  vagabonds.  I  think  the  lumber  was  in 
litigation,  liened  or  garnisheed.  A  watchman  was  about 
there  all  the  time,  one  by  day  and  another  by  night.  They 
soon  had  become  familiar  enough  with  me  to  let  me  go 
and  come  over  the  lumber  as  I  wanted  to.  When  I  had 
taken  up  bootblacking  and  worked  at  it  some  nights  very 
late,  not  coming  back  before  Bob  had  closed  the  shop  and 
gone  away,  I  had  to  get  through  the  lumber  yard  to  my 
porch.  But  if  it  was  at  all  possible  I  came  back  before 
Bob  closed  the  shop.  I  liked  it.  I  liked  to  come  and 
see  the  light.     That  was  now  my  home. 


From  the  first  moment  I  had  seen  some  bootblack  boys, 
I  had  conceived  the  notion  of  going  into  that  business 
myself.  Perhaps  the  idea  had  been  .planted  in  me  before 
this,  long  before,  and  kept  alive  by  what  I  had  noticed 
and  heard.  I  must  always  have  known  that  boys  blacked 
boots  on  the  streets  for  money.  Probably  I  must  have 
known  such  boys  myself. 

Two  weeks  after  coming  to  the  city  I  had  bought  from 
an  Italian  bootblack  boy  his  kit,  the  complete  outfit,  and 
went  hustling  for  work  every  free  hour.  And  it  was  not 
long  before  I  found  myself  moneyed  enough  to  buy  me 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

clothes  that  I  stood  badly  in  need  of.  The  better  gar- 
ments of  these  clothes,  or  what  sailors  would  call  their 
.^hore  clothes  were  to  be  worn,  I  presume,  when  I  should 
set  out  to  try  to  locate  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  for  1  am  pretty 
sure  that  had  been  and  still  was  my  objective  ponit  though 
I  did  not  realize  how  my  personal  experiences,  the  reali- 
ties of   city   life,   together   with  my   homesickness   were 

changing  my  objects.  u    n    4. 

Bob,  when  I  had  told  him  of  my  project,  had  at  the  first 
outset  opposed  it,  because  of  course  he  wanted  to  keep 
me  working  for  him  the  way  I  was  doing.  But  as  that 
was  the  very  thing  I  was  aiming  at,  we  had  no  further 
difficulty  to  come  to  an  understanding  which  le  t  my  time 
about  evenly  divided  between  chop-house  work  in  Bob  s 
place  during  meal  hours  and  cleaning  up  time,  and  boot- 

blackincr 

My  best  customers  were  the  seafaring  men,  and  in  one 
certain  sailor's  boarding  house  called  ^'George  s  Rancho, 
I  could  always  count  on  a  dozen  jobs  daily,  the  great 
objection,  however,  to  that  place  being  that  the  sailors 
were  all  the  time  getting  up  fights  between  the  boys,  in 
the  large  bar-room  of  the  house,  making  bets  on  them, 
setting  all  the  boys  coming  into  the  place,  bootblacks  as 
well  as  others,  newsboys,  peddlers,  any  boys,  against  each 
other,  often  utterly  corrupting  them  by  giving  them  money 

and  drinks.  ,  ,    , 

It  still  seems  to  me  that  I  was  always  the  one  that  was 
wanted  to  do  the  fighting.  I  had  kept  away  from  other 
boys  from  the  first.  I  had  done  it  to  hide  my  sorrow 
from  them.  And  indeed,  I  never  wanted  to  fight  any- 
bodv  But  I  was  forced  into  it.  And  bigger  boys  were 
pitted  against  me  all  the  time.  At  the  boardmg  house 
the  men  would  see  fair  play,  and  I  oftenest  came  out 
victorious.  But  when  I  met  some  of  those  boys  at  other 
narts  of  the  water  front  I  was  liable  to  be  set  upon  by 
a  whole  crowd,  and  badly  ill-treated,  being  a  stranger, 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

too,  nobody  knew  where  from,  and  naturally  hated  as  such 
and  as  being  given  to  retiring  ways.  I  was  in  constant 
danger,  too,  of  being  picked  up  by  the  police  and  put  in 
a  reformatory  school. 

Another  place  where  I  took  in  a  good  many  dimes  was 
at  a  ship  chandler's,  where  a  number  of  coasters'  captains 
congregated  every  morning  or  forenoon  and  whiled  away 
the  hours  till  lunch  time  with  telling  stories,  joking,  teas- 
ing each  other,  adjourning  from  time  to  time  to  the  next- 
door  saloon  and  returning  each  time  with  increasing  ban- 
ter and  laughter.  Some  of  them  were  not  very  good  pay 
and  would  sometimes  put  me  off  from  day  to  day  and  at 
last  make  me  compromise  for  as  much  as  half  my  bill,  in 
order  for  me  to  get  a  settlement. 

The  worst  one  of  these  was  Captain  Cornelius  Smid- 
kins.  He  liked  very  much  to  get  his  shoes  polished  every 
morning.  In  fact  it  was  rather  a  particular  weakness  of 
his  to  always  want  to  have  his  footwear  clean  and  well 
shined.  But  he  did  not  like  at  all  to  pay  for  it.  It  was 
all  quite  comic,  and  I  don't  know  but  what  already  at  that 
time  I  could  fully  enjoy  the  humor  of  it.  When  I  asked 
him  if  he  wanted  a  shine  he  would  not  answer  but  in  a 
self-forgetful  sort  of  way  put  out  his  feet,  and  only  after 
the  work  was  done  and  I  was  standing  before  him,  mod- 
estly waiting  to  be  paid,  would  he  pretend  to  notice  what 
had  been  done,  coming  to  his  senses  like,  crying  in  a 
tone  of  annoyance:  "Oh,  I  did  not  want  you  to  polish 
my  shoes,  1  am  dead-broke  to-day."  Or  another  time 
he  would  ask:  "How  much  money  do  I  owe  you  now?" 
And  when  I  told  him  the  sum,  he  would  exclaim  it  was 
too  much,  he  would  not  pay  that.  I  had  no  right  to  let 
a  bill  run  up  that  much.  He  did  not  mean  to  say  that  I 
wanted  to  cheat  him,  he  knew  I  was  honest,  but  I  was 
mistaken.  I  should  always  collect  my  money  at  the  finish 
of  each  job,  then  no  mistake  like  this  could  happen.  Any- 
how he  had  no  money  with  him  now,  but  if  I  were  around 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

to-morrow  or  next  day  he  would  settle  with  me.  But  to- 
morrow or  next  day  he  would  say :  "J^^st  run  your  brush 
over  my  shoes.  Not  a  regular  shine!  I  don't  want  a 
shine.  I  only  want  the  dust  taken  off.  I  have  no  money 
to-day.  I  had  to  pay  some  small  bills  I  did  not  think  of 
yesterday.  I  shall  have  plenty  money  to-morrow."  And 
to-morrow  he  would  maybe  pay  me  ten  cents  on  account. 

He  was  quite  indifferent,  too,,  to  the  blackguarding  of 
the  other  skippers  about  this.  They  often  and  privately 
urged  me  on  to  next  time  polish  but  one  of  his  shoes, 
leaving  the  other  unblackened  and  refuse  to  polish  it  till 
he  paid  me.  But  this  I  did  not  want  to  do.  It  seemed 
mean  to  me,  though  again  I  felt  it  to  be  not  fair  to  the 
other  customers,  to  let  him  get  his  work  done  for  less 
than  they,  and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  tell  him  so  and 
quit  doing  his  work  altogether,  when  the  day  came  that 
ended  all  this,  the  day  I  was  set  upon  by  three  boy  toughs 
and  had  to  fight  for  as  good  as  my  life,  as  I  had  often 
forejudged  I  should  and  had,  I  thought,  prepared  myself 
for.  I  was  on  my  way  to  Bob's  shop  for  supper.  It  was 
rather  early.  I  was  crossing  a  planked  lot  where  there 
had  been  a  small  coal  yard  which  was  now  removed,  leav- 
ing the  place  empty,  excepting  a  large  shed,  half  full  of 
junl:,  when  the  three  boys  came  rushing  onto  me  from 
behind  out  of  the  shed  where  they  had  been  hiding,  wait- 
ing for  me,  as  I  often  came  that  way  going  home.  With 
the  first  one  of  the  three  I  had  had  a  wrestling  match 
some  days  ago  in  the  barroom  of  George's  Rancho.  He 
was  nearly  my  match.  The  second  boy  had  not  long  ago 
been  pointed  out  to  me  as  a  fellow  who  had  declared  that 
lie  would  break  my  face.  He  was  smaller  than  I,  but 
older,  built  somewhat  dwarfish,  with  short  legs  and  very 
long,  strong  arms  and  big  hands.  The  third  boy  was  the 
Ijiggcst  of  all,  perhaps  thirteen  years  old.  I  did  not  know 
him  at  all.     He  did  not  look  as  if  he  amounted  to  much. 

They  had  me  down  and  first  were  searching  me  for 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

money.  For  I  bore  the  reputation  of  having  money  and 
always  carrying  money  on  my  person.  They  did  not  find 
any.  I  had  some  sewed  in  the  bottom  of  my  overalls, 
but  they  did  not  look  there.  The  first  boy  was  strad- 
dling me  and  had  his  hand  on  my  throat.  The  second 
boy  lay  on  my  legs  and  held  one  of  my  hands  with  his 
long  reach.  The  third  boy  was  holding  my  other  hand 
down. 

''Let  us  torture  him,"  cried  the  third  boy.     ''He  is  only 
a  Greaser.     I  guess  he  is  over  ten,  too,  anyhow." 
"Gouge  his  eye,"  croaked  the  long-armed  devil. 
"Wait,"  said  the  first  boy,"  let  me  hook  his  nose  first." 
He  was  going  to  hook  his  fingers  in  my  nostrils,  but  see- 
ing some  rough,  stiff,  pine  splinters  lying  by,  which  seemed 
to  him  more  suitable,  he  grabbed  some  of  them  in  a  bunch 
to  drive  them  up  my  nose,  when  very  awkwardly  he  turned 
his  hand  so  that   I  got  two  of  his   fingers  between  my 
teeth  and  I  bit  them  to  the  bone. 

He  gave  shriek  on  shriek.  He  kicked ;  he  clawed  with 
his  other  hand.  But  I  held  on.  I  think  he  kicked  the 
second  boy  in  the  face.  The  third  boy  had  let  loose  my 
hand  and  most  stupidly  was  trying  to  drag  the  first  boy 
away  from  me,  dragging  me  up  in  the  struggle. 

As  soon  as  I  was  on  my  feet  I  let  go  the  fingers.  T 
turned  and  putting  into  it  all  my  strength  dealt  the  second 
boy  a  left-handed,  awfully  lucky  blow,  square  under  the 
jaw,  that  sent  him  backward  falling  and  down  like  a  log 
of  wood.  I  believe  though  that  he  had  been  badly  hurt 
by  the  kicking  of  the  first  boy ;  and  he  had  hardly  gained 
his  feet.  The  first  boy  was  keeping  up  his  screaming.  T 
certainly  had  torn  the  flesh  of  his  fingers.  People  were 
coming  running.  The  second  boy  lay  like  dead.  Per- 
haps I  had  broken  his  jaw.  My  hand  felt  broken,  as 
if  T  had  hit  a  lump  of  iron  with  it.  The  third  boy  ran. 
And  I  ran  too. 

I  first  ran  up-hill.     I  hardlv  knew  what  I  was  running 

-5.66 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

away  from.  I  had  not  done  any  wrong.  T  was  not  sorry 
and  I  was  not  afraid,  even  if  I  knew  enough  to  know 
that  there  miglit  trouble  ensue  for  me.  But  I  hated  what 
1  had  had  to  do.  The  horrible  taste  of  blood  was  in  my 
mouth,  and  I  thought  1  had  crunched  the  bones  of  the 
fingers. 

Then  all  at  once  the  idea  came  into  my  head  to  go 
away  from  this  place,  give  up  all  this  life.  I  could  not 
go  back  to  Five  Oaks,  and  I  never  had  any  thought  of 
doing  that,  but  I  could  go  to  sea  as  Hants  had  done. 
Probably  the  idea  to  go  to  sea  had  been  in  my  head  all 
along.  And  if  the  encounter  with  these  boys  was  the 
last  cause  of  my  leaving  town,  I  suspect  the  first  and 
real  cause  was  my  having  seen  that  strange  man  in  the 
evening  on  the  sidewalk  in  the  shopping  streets  of  the 
town. 

I  had  stopped  running  and  turned  to  go  down  hill  again 
in  another  direction  to  the  water  front,  where  some  coast- 
ing craft  were  always  lying  ready  for  sea.  On  one  I  saw 
the  name  *'Good  Fellow."  which  T  knew  was  tlie  name 
of  Captain  Smidkin's  vessel. 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  should  have  selected  Captain 
Smidkins'  as  the  one  most  agreeable  to  me,  or  he  the  most 
agreeable  captain  to  go  to  sea  with,  yet  now  that  the  ves- 
sel here  was  his  and  ready  for  sailing  next  forenoon,  as 
T  heard  one  asking  a  man  on  deck,  whom  I  took  to  be  the 
watchman,  I  was  eager  to  go  and  speak  to  him  and  went, 
directed  by  the  watchman,  into  the  cabin  where  I  found 
Captain  Smidkins  alone  at  his  desk,  filing  some  papers, 
utterly  surprising  him.  He  evidently  thought  I  had  come 
after  some  money  he  owed  me  yet.  And  there  was  some 
money  lying  on  his  desk,  too,  which  instinctively  he  cov- 
ered quickly  with  some  papers,  knowing  though  as  he 
must;  that  I  had  seen  it. 

I  understood  it  all  plainly  enough,  and  not  to  shame  him 
or  anger  him  and  thus  injure  my  own  cause,  I  right  away 

367 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

told  him  straightforward  that  I  had  come  to  ask  him  to 
let  me  go  to  sea  with  him.     When  he  understood  that 
I  had  not  come  for  money,  and  that  instead  of  wanting 
money  from  him  I  had  some  little  money  saved  up  that 
I  wanted  him  to  collect  for  me  from  Bob,  who  was  taking 
care  of  it  for  me,  together  with  my  new  clothes,  I  felt  I 
could  consider  my  case  won.     Of  course  I  had  to  do 
some  more  talking.     I  did  not  tell  him  how  sick  I  was 
of  the  life  on  the  water  front  and  the  whole  city  life,  how 
much  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  riotous  uproar  there, 
but  I  told  him  I  liked  his  vessel  and  wished  to  sail  in  her, 
that  he  need  not  pay  me  any  wages,  if  only  he  gave  me 
my  board  and  clothes,  that  I  could  pull  an  oar  or  scull  and 
handle  a  boat,  a  small  boat  I  meant;  that  I  also  could 
cook  a  plain  meal  if  it  came  to  that,  and  would  serve  him 
faithfully,  and  at  the  same  time  keep  his  shoes  always 
polished  neatly.    Also  that  I  had  no  father  nor  mother  nor 
anybody  to  whom  I  belonged,  so  that  he  ran  no  risk  of 
becoming  responsible  for  me  to  anybody. 

My  clothes  he  brought  me  next  morning,  but  not  the 
money.  Whether  Mr.  Duncan  Hamilton  kept  it,  deny- 
ing that  I  had  any  in  his  keeping  as  Captain  Smidkins  re- 
ported, or  whether  Captain  Smidkins  collected  and  then 
subverted  it  to  balance  my  indenture  I  have  never  been 
able  to  decide  by  myself. 

The  tug  was  alongside.  We  cast  off  our  lines  and  were 
towed  outside  the  heads,  where  we  could  make  a  fair 
wind  for  the  southern  coast.  I  was  more  than  half  at 
home  aboard  ship  already  from  my  former  acquaintance 
with  vessels.  I  was  not  seasick.  I  was  in  a  way  happy 
to  be  clear  of  the  life  T  had  been  leading,  but  yet,  when 
the  town  had  vanished  in  fog  and  smoke,  and  only  a  fa- 
ding glow,  as  the  evening  advanced,  showed  where  it  was 
located,  far  and  farther  away,  a  lonely  feeling  of  loss 
gave  my  heart  a  twinge,  making  me  think  of  the  lighted- 
up  water  front  street.  Bob  in  his  place,  the  sizzling  chops 

368 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

and  steaks  filling  the  whole  shop  with  fatty  steam,  the 
longshoremen,  deckhands,  coal  heavers  all  crowding  in, 
so  many  people  I  had  come  to  know,  who  had  so^  many 
times  shown  me  kindness,  giving  me  words  of  friendly, 
joking  encouragement. 

September. 

When  I  came  to  Mr.  Mauresse's  new  residence  this 
morning  it  was  before  the  appointed  time  and  before  Mr. 
DeLang  had  come.  I  heard  from  one  of  the  workmen 
that  Mr.  Mauresse  had  already  been  there.  Mr.  DeLang 
was  rather  late  and  seemed  a  trifle  put  out  about  the  mis- 
carrying of  his  appointment  with  Mr.  Mauresse.  For  it 
had  been  a  fixed  appointment,  I  now  came  to  understand, 
for  Mr.  Mauresse  to  meet  us.  However  by  questioning 
among  the  men  working  on  the  building  Mr.  DeLang  at 
last  found  a  plumber's  helper,  with  whom  Mr.  Mauresse 
had  left  word  for  Mr.  DeLang  to  send  the  gardener  to  the 
hotel,  this  evening,  making  Mr.   DeLang  quite  satisfied 

now. 

"I  thought,"  he  said,  "it  might  be  better  if  I  was  pres- 
ent at  your  meeting  the  gentleman  here.     I  might  be  able 
to  put  a  word  in  now  and  then  that  would  help  you  along. 
But  if  he  wants  you  at  the  hotel,  all  right!     The  hotel 
means  the  wife.    You  will  see  the  whole  family.    All  you 
have  to  do  now  is  to  let  them  have  what  they  want."    And 
he  proceeded  to  give  me  in  his  slowest  way  snudry  advice, 
counsel  and  instruction  how  to  let  everybody  have  their 
way,  but  at  the  same  time  to  take  care  of  my  own  interest, 
which  I  rather  inclined  to  disregard,  he  thought.     Very 
seriously  he  cautioned  me  not  to  give  right  ofT  any  esti- 
mate or  figure  of  cost  or  make  a  mere  guess  at  price.     If 
I  wanted  him  to,  he  said,  he  willingly  would  sit  down  m 
his  oflfice  and  go  over  my  figures  with  me  on  the  cost  of 
the  thing,  supposing  I  had  made  any  figures  as  yet  at  all. 
Or  if  I  had  not,  he  could  give  me  the  bigger  part  of 
all  to-morrow  to  assist  me  to  figure  up  the  job  and  make 

369 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

an  intelligent  bid.  For  that  was  what  Mr.  Mauresse 
would  want  to  arrive  at,  an  understanding,  a  contract. 

He  spoke  more  friendly  like  than  ever.  It  moved  me 
so,  I  could  hardly  answer  "yes"  and  "no."  What 
makes  him  take  such  a  friendly  interest  in  me?  What 
have  I  done  that  he  should  want  to  be  so  helpful  to 
me? 

But  it  is  not  what  there  is  in  me;  it  is  not  what  1 
have  done,  what  I  am.  To  quote  Ullard  again:  "It 
is  the  other  way,  it  is  what  there  is  in  him.  It  is 
his  own  helpfulness  and  goodness  that  acts  and 
works." 

To  show  him  my  appreciation  of  his  kindness,  I 
asked  him  to  direct  me  to  some  nurserymen  of  whom 
I  could  obtain  prices  of  plants,  and  he  wrote  for  me 
letters  of  introduction  to  several.  He  made  the  ap- 
pointment to  meet  me  to-morrow  a  little  before  noon. 

"My  wife  will  be  at  home  I  understand,"  he  ex- 
plained, "and  she  will  make  us  a  little  lunch.  Then 
I  can  give  you  the  rest  of  the  day.  You  better  re- 
port here  to-morrow  morning  to  be  sure  of  our  ar- 
rangements.    All  right !" 

I  have  seen,  now,  nearly  all  the  florists  Mr.  DeLang 
directed  me  to  and  some  others  besides.  I  have  ob- 
tained prices  and  samples  of  almost  everything  and  the 
address,  I  am  certain,  of  everybody  in  any  business 
or  trade  or  occupation  connected  in  the  remotest  de- 
gree with  the  doing  of  such  a  job  as  this.  I  am  truly 
a  trifle  bewildered.  Business !  Business !  Everybody 
seems  to  be  fully  on  the  alert  as  soon  as  that  magic 
word  comes  into  play.  I  almost  feel  as  though  I  had 
caught  a  little  of  the  spirit  of  it  and  can  not  say  that 
I  dislike  it.  One  belongs,  as  it  is,  to  some  sort  of 
special  association,  to  be  one  of  a  set.  There  is  a  com- 
munity of  interests.  And  more.  One  does  not  only 
become  to  the  others  of  interest  but  of  importance. 

370 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Something  about  this  pleases  the  conceit.  I  can  under- 
stand this  and  follow  it;  and  yet  I  am  no  busmess 
man;  nor  ever  shall  be! 

One  florist  I  called  on  is  interested  in  a  large  seed- 
farm    in    the    upper    part    of    Santa    Clara    valley.      I 
thought  at  first   it   must  be   near   my  father's  ranch, 
but  from  the  description  the  man  gave  me  it  must  be 
on  the  other  side  of  the  valley.     I  questioned  the  man 
about   other   landowners   there   and   their    tracts,   but 
found  out  nothing  of  my  father's  ranch.     I  am  specu- 
lating now  on  getting  Mr.  Mauresse   interested  m  a 
trip  to  that  man's  place  for  the  selection  of  some  dwarf 
roses,  which  the  man  raises  in  great  variety  and  which 
could  be  used   in  the   new   garden   with   great   effect. 
If  Mr.  Mauresse  would  go  there  to  select  them  him- 
self  and   take   me   along  or   send   me   I   might   get   a 
chance  to  find  out  something  about  what  has  become 
of  my  fathers  place. 

On  my  wav  back  from  the  nursery  farthest  out,   1 

came  within  a  block's  distance  from  Mrs.  Stillborn's 

residence,  and   seeing  Mrs.   Stillborn   in   the  grounds, 

I  walked  that  much  out  of  my  way  over  to  the  place. 

She  was  cutting  roses  in  the  shrubbery,  which  divides 

the  barnyard  from  the  side  lawn,  the  lot  being  a  large 

corner  lot,  falling  very  steeply  on  the  grade  of  the  side 

street  to   the   rear,   with   the   barn   on   the   outer   rear 

end,  opening  onto  the  side  street.     I  walked  in  through 

the  barn,  seeing  that  she  knew  me  again.     "If  there 

is   not  that   good   for   nothing   Cholo,"   she   cried.     ''I 

knew  you  would  come  back.    What  do  you  want?    Did 

I    not   tell   you   to   stay   away?     Now.   what    do   you 

want?" 

I  raised  my  hat  and  with  some  exertion  to  keep 
from  laughing  I  answered  very  civilly,  "You  did 
not  absolutely  forbid  me  to  come  back.  You  told  me 
not  to  come  back  expecting  permanent  employment. 

3/1 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

More  you  could  not  anyhow  very  well  forbid  me  to  do. 
And  I  am  not  here  expecting  a  permanent  situation. 
I  only  want  a  day's  work,  or  half  a  day's  work  to  help 
make  my  living.    I  know  you  have  a  regular  gardener." 

"You  know !  You  know  nothing  about  it,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Or  perhaps  you  have  heard  that  I  dis- 
charged the  lazy  good-for-nothing,  and  that  is  the  rea- 
son of  your  reappearance.  But  don't  you  flatter  your- 
self that  you  will  get  the  situation.  There  is  no  situa- 
tion and  there  will  be  none.  What  is  the  use  of  a 
gardener?  A  common  laborer,  if  he  can  only  handle 
a  spade,  is  all  that  is  required  here.  And  since  we  have 
given  up  our  horses  and  carriage  we  need  no  coach- 
man." 

"I  think  so  myself,"  I  put  in. 

"You  think!  You  think!  Well,  I  don't  know  what 
your  thinking  amounts  to;  I  think  the  place  demands 
a  gardener,  if  gardeners  such  as  ought  to  be,  could  be 
got." 

"Very  true." 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "you  need  not  try  to  look  as  if  you 
were  the  only  capable  and  reliable  man  in  the  country. 
There  are  plenty  as  good  as  you  and  many  more  better. 
I  could  get  any  number  of  offers  from  able  and  honest 
men,  if  I  would  but  advertise." 

"No  doubt!" 

"No  doubt?"  she  shouted,  "I  doubt  it  very  much. 
They  are  all  robbers.    Not  one  is  to  be  trusted." 

It  was  certainly  quite  entertaining  to  notice  and 
watch  how  concurrence  with  her  in  all  her  proposi- 
tions acted  on  her  peculiar  temper,  increasing  her 
anger,  if  anger  is  the  right  word  for  it,  and  I  might 
have  been  provoked  to  keep  it  up  in  the  spirit  of  mis- 
chief, to  see  how  far  she  would  go,  only  I  am  such  a 
poor  actor;  I  really  cannot  act.  And  also,  she  had 
really  gone  far  enough  and  could  but  repeat  her  per- 

372 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  A  LAN  US 

formance.  So  I  talked  back  to  her,  opposing  her  with 
sensible  contradictions  speaking  loud,  too,  if  not  as 
loud  as  she  did. 

She  came  quicker  to  reason  than  I  had  expected. 
Her  struggle  was  but  brief,  and  it  all  ended  in  her 
offering  me  the  job  of  keeping  the  grounds  in  trim. 
As  they  are  in  good  condition  it  will  not  take  more, 
than  one  day  in  a  week  to  keep  them  so,  unless  she 
makes  changes.  The  amount  of  my  wages  I  am  to 
settle  with  Mr.  Stillborn. 

I  had  to  tell  her  of  course  that  I  could  not  enter 
into  any  agreement  till  I  had  heard  from  another 
person  about  a  gardening  job  I  was  expecting  to  get. 
She  did  not  like  this  very  much,  but  had  to  be  satis- 
fied with  having  me  work  for  her  this  afternoon,  for 
which  I  am  to  receive  a  dollar  and  a  half  from  Mr. 
Stillborn  as  soon  as  I  see  him.  she  having  no  money 
and  never  paying  any  bill  whatever,  always  leaving 
that  for  her  husband  to  do,  not  even  wanting  to  pay 
me  on  an  order,  to  be  given  me  by  her  on  her  hus- 
band and  indorsed  by  me,  which  way  of  ending  the 
business  I  proposed  for  fun  but  which  fun  she  did  not 
understand  in  the  least. 

That  I  felt  a  little  elated  at  my  victory  over  her  is 
true.  Yet  what  is  there  to  be  elated  about !  Anybody 
with  ordinary  judgment,  if  he  can  but  keep  his  temper, 
must  be  able  to  manage  her.  I  have  before  this  known 
people  who  had  to  be  treated  with  contradiction  and 
opposition.  It  does  interest  me  a  little  to  try  to  make 
her  out.  She  has  common  sense.  At  least  she  knows 
it  when  she  meets  it.  At  bottom  she  seems  to  be 
equally  good-natured  or,  indeed,  soft-natured  and  con- 
trary. Perhaps  she  is  not  so  very  contrary  after  all, 
only  of  a  lively  disputing  turn.  At  the  end  of  the 
dispute  she  is  then  quite  willing  to  give  in  and  do  what 
one  wished  of  her.     There   is   even   a   motherly  way 

373 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

about  her.  And  I  am  sure  she  very  much  likes  to  be 
coaxed.  Mr.  Stillborn  I  dare  say,  aggravates  her  case, 
by  being  so  taciturn,  so  more  than  undemonstrative 
and  unresisting,  so  frozen  mannered  as  I  take  him  to 
be.  And  she  again,  I  don't  doubt,  aggravates  him. 
I  suppose  there  are  no  children.  Children  would  have 
cured  both  their  cases  long  ago.  Another  thing  chil- 
dren might  have  been  a  cure  for  is  her  saving  spirit, 
as  it  appears. 

Now  to  the  hotel !    From  one  comedy  to  another. 

Late  night. 

One  more  failure  to  find  out  anything! 

Mr.  DeLang  was  right  in  saying  that  I  should  see 
the  whole  family.  They  were  all  there.  And  they 
were  all  full  of  Paris.  I  had  to  wait  no  great  length 
of  time  before  I  had  the  opportunity  of  mentioning 
Mahon  and  asking  Mrs.  Mauresse  if  during  her  resi- 
dence in  Paris  she  had  met  Mahon  or  heard  of  him. 
She  tried  to  think,  to  remember.  The  whole  family  came 
to  her  assistance,  trying  to  think,  to  remember.  Everyone 
of  the  first  class  hotels  in  Paris  was  mentioned,  some 
country  places,  too,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  I  could 
only  explain  that  Mahon  Mark  Tem  Oldock  was  the 
son  of  Mr.  John  Tem  Oldock,  whom  Mr.  Mauresse 
must  certainly  know  by  name,  that  I  had  known  him 
when  a  boy,  had  gone  to  school  with  him  for  about  a 
year  but  was  not  in  the  same  grade,  since  he  was 
several  years  older  than  I.  He  had  then  gone  with  his 
father  to  Europe  and  I  had  afterwards  heard  that  he 
was  living  in  Paris.  And  his  father  who  was  in  Boston 
had  grown  very  rich. 

"Yes,  very  rich!"  sneered  Mr.  Mauresse.  *Tf  Tem 
Oldock  was  a  young  man,  he  would  die  in  the  poor- 
house.    As  it  is  he  will  probably  die  before  he  gets  there." 

I  was  rather  early  in  coming.  They  were  still  at 
dinner.     A  waiter   showed   me  a   seat  in   the  parlor, 

374 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

bringing  me  word  to  wait  a  few  minutes.  They  seem  to 
occupy  quite  a  number  of  rooms,  including  a  private 
dining  room,  all  very  lavishly  decorated. 

Pretty  soon  Mr.  Mauresse  entered  the  room  with  a 
couple  of  young  men,  who,  I  think,  I  saw  at  his  place  of 
business  when  I  delivered  my  sketch  there.  They 
were  in  evening  dress,  and  two  young  ladies  coming 
in  after  them,  nieces  of  Mrs.  Mauresse,  I  learned  after- 
wards, were  in  full  dress.  Full  dress  was  indeed 
the  order.  And  I  am  sure  it  must  lend  in  importance  to 
the  principal  meal  of  the  day,  even  if  does  not  altogether 
improve  the  appearance  of  the  head  of  the  family. 

How  the  possession  of  a  fine  family  and  wealth 
invests  a  man,  even  otherwise  not  framed  for  it,  with 
dignity!  Only  he  must  not  be  an  absolute  fool,  I 
suppose.  And  Mr.  Mauresse  is  no  fool.  And  the 
family  is  fine :  seven  beautiful  children !  And  the 
wife! 

At  first  sight  of  her  it  was  impossible  not  to  think  of 
Mrs.  De  Lang's  remark.  Then  for  some  moments  I  was 
lost  in  admiration. 

Astonishing  is  her  fairness.  She  is  a  perfect  blonde 
with  beautiful,  pale,  deep-sea  blue  eyes,  her  somewhat 
level  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  are  a  few  shades  darker 
than  her  hair.  Her  complexion  is  most  lovely ;  pale,  yet 
free  of  all  milkiness,  not  pink,  nor  blushing  red,  still  with 
a  soft  glow  of  freshness  and  health!  And  she  is  the 
mother  of  seven  children!  One  after  another,  smaller 
and  smaller,  they  kept  coming  in  by  all  doors.  "Another 
county  heard  from,"  she  would  exclaim  and  laugh  as  one 
appeared ;  all  like  her  in  shapeliness,  beauty  of  features, 
figure,  complexion,  only  with  rather  darker  hair,  boys  and 
girls. 

Mr.  Mauresse's  first  words  had  been :  **How  much  ? 
What  is  it  going  to  cost?''  And  as  I  lifted  my  shoulder, 
he  cried:  "An  idea!     I  only  want  an  idea.     You  must 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

have  an  idea.     Give  us  an  idea."     However,   following 
Mr.  De  Lang's  advice,  I  gave  him  no  idea. 

When  Airs.  Mauresse  presently  had  entered,  he  had 
for  a  while  not  spoken.  In  a  way  he  seemed  to  be  dis- 
playing her,  though  it  was  but  to  an  ordinary  gardener : 
her  beauty,  her  gown,  her  lace,  her  jewels;  certainly  he 
was  proud  of  her,  and  well  he  might  be. 

Her  arms  were  bare  and  her  neck,  showing  the  most 
lovely  throat  and  shoulders.  She  was  all  in  white  with  a 
bluish  orchid  on  the  corsage  below  the  right  shoulder. 
Over  her  shoulders  went  cords,  the  twisted  strands  of 
which  were  strings  of  pearls  fastened  to  the  bodice  with 
diamond  clasps.  She  wore  a  collar  of  three  or  four 
strings  of  larger  pearls  with  half  a  dozen  cross  bars  of 
very  large  diamonds  and  on  the  left  arm,  to  balance  the 
orchid,  I  suppose,  half  way  between  the  dimpling  elbow 
and  the  shoulder  was  clasped  a  bracelet  of  still  larger 
diamonds,  just  denting  the  skin.  Diamonds  were  on  her 
breast,  her  belt,  on  her  fingers,  in  her  ears,  in  her  hair. 

For  more  than  an  hour  my  sketch  was  discussed,  every- 
body, to  the  smallest  child,  having  in  good  democratic 
manner  their  say  about  every  flower,  but  nothing  finally 
was  changed.  I  was  told  to  do  my  figuring  and  hand  in 
my  bid  on  the  work  in  accordance  with  the  sketch  as  it 
stood. 

"Make  your  figure  carefully  as  low  as  you  can,"  Mr. 
Mauresse  impressed  on  me  several  times,  "as  low  as  pos- 
sible, and  I  shall  give  you  the  preference." 

I  do  not  know  about  getting  any  preference;  that  is, 
more  than  another  one.  I  don't  take  Mr.  Mauresse  for 
a  man  to  give  preferences  in  such  a  manner  much;  but 
at  the  same  bid  as  another  I  think  the  job  will  be  given  to 
me.  And  I  feel  as  indififerent  about  it  now  as  possible. 
Probably  it  was  the  expectation  of  learning  something  of 
Mahon's  life  in  Paris  which  gave  this  job  its  main  interest. 
Well,  at  least  Mr.  Mauresse  knows  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  or 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

of  him.    And  so  there  must  be  others.     I  should  inquire. 
Perhaps  Mr.  De  Lang  knows  something. 
September. 

I  saw  Mr.  De  Lang  this  morning  and  reported  prog- 
ress. He  sent  me  off  to  different  contractors  to  find  out 
the  cost  of  certain  materials.  At  eleven  o'clock  I  was 
back  at  Mr.  Mauresse's  place,  and  Mr.  De  Lang  was  here 
to  take  me  to  his  house  in  his  buggy. 

^'I  understand  my  wife  is  going  to  be  home,"  he  said, 
"but  I  am  not  sure.  I  thought  she  had  gone  to  Berkeley 
to  see  her  cousin.  I  sent  word  there  for  her  to  come 
home.  But  if  she  did  not  get  it  and  she  is  not  home,  we 
can  get  dinner  afterwards  somewhere.  We  shall  find 
enough  in  the  pantry  now  for  a  sandwich  or  two." 

But  she  was  come  home  and  all  smiles.  She  quickly 
set  the  table  for  us  in  the  kitchen  and  took  a  seat  at  it 
with  us.  Her  husband's  message  had  just  caught  her 
somewhere  and  just  come  at  the  right  time,  she  pro- 
fessed, for  she  had  never  in  her  life  felt  so  much  like 
having  a  nice,  cosy  lunch  at  home.  And  so  she  fixed 
everything  all  right. 

When  I  said  soemthing  about  my  seeing  Mrs.  Mauresse 
at  the  hotel  last  night  she  became  very  much  interested, 
and  I  had  to  tell  her  all  I  had  observed,  and  then  she  ex- 
claimed that  she  was  all  astonishment  that  I  had  noticed 
and  remembered  so  much. 

"Well,"  I  told  her,  "T  have  everything  down  black  on 
white:  her  lace  and  her  jewels  and  her  dimpling  elbows; 
everything !  I  put  it  down  on  purpose,  not  to  forget  any- 
thing.    I  knew  you  would  want  to  hear  about  it." 

"Oh'  I  love  to  hear  it,"  she  cried.  "Is  not  that  a  bad 
twitch  she  has  in  her  left  cheek  ?>  They  say  she  got  that 
trving  to  work  a  dimple  in  the  cheek.  You  did  not  notice 
it?  No?  But  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  saw  in  all  my 
life  is  that  as  soon  as  the  cold  summer  winds  set  in,  her 
nose  turns  pink, 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"How  can  you  say  that?"  interposed  Mr.  De  Lang, 
quite  ruffled.  "How  can  you  know  anything  like  that 
about  her  at  all?  You  have  not  seen  her  but  once  or 
twice.  She  has  been  away  for  years.  You  never  saw 
her  since  she  came  back  but  once  or  twice.  And  I  don't 
believe  you  ever  saw  her  before  that  time." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  did.  And  I  know.  The  girl  that  manicures 
me  works  on  her,  too.    Ellen,  you  know !" 

I  asked  Mr.  De  Lang  if  he  knew  Mr.  Tem  Oldock. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "if  you  mean  John  Tem  Oldock,  the 
rich  Tem  Oldock.  That  is,"  he  corrected  himself,  "I 
know  who  he  is.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  him  person- 
ally.   Why?" 

"Oh,"  I  answered,  "I  know  him  a  little.  I  used  to  know 
his  boy  when  I  was  a  boy.  His  name  was  mentioned  last 
night,  and  Mr.  Mauresse  declared  that  if  Mr.  Tem  Oldock 
was  a  young  man  he  would  die  in  the  poorhouse,  but, 
being  an  old  man,  he  would  probably  die  before  he  got 
there.    He  is  very  rich,  is  he  not  ?" 

Mr.  De  Lang,  still  somewhat  ruffled,  called  out,  "You 
should  have  told  Mr.  Mauresse  there  might  be  people  who 
talked  that  way  about  himself ;  other  rich  people."  Then 
he  added  with  more  coldness,  "I  don't  know  anything 
about  Tem  Oldock's  affairs,  nor  about  him,  himself  at 
all,  except  what  one  reads  in  the  daily  papers  and  hears 
on  the  street.  He  is  known  here  because  he  took  his  rise 
here  in  this  town,  his  first  rise.  He  is  one  of  the  very 
many,  very  rich  men  of  the  country.  At  least  he  has  the 
name  of  being.  He  is,  generally  speaking,  considered  a 
very  enterprising  man.  Probably  he  has  a  good  many 
irons  in  the  fire.  Men  like  him  have  to  have.  I  reckon 
he  knows  how  to  take  care  of  himself." 

After  that  Mr.  De  Lang  was  silent,  and  I  thought  he 
felt  sorry  for  having  shown  anger. 

And  now,  lunch  over,  we  set  ourselves  down  to  work. 
Mr.  De  Lang  is  very  methodical,  such  as  I  had  expected 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

him  to  be.     I  think  I  have  learned  enough  from  him  in 
this  one  afternoon  to  henceforth  do  my  own  figuring. 
He  directed  me  to  make  another  plot  or  ground  plan  of 
the  improvements,  a  plain  line  drawing  on  tough,  brown 
paper,  what  he  called  a  working  plan  on  a  much  larger 
scale  than  the  original  sketch.    Of  this  he  bade  me  make 
three  tracings.     And  mostly  from  his  dictation  I  had  to 
write  specifications  of  the  different  materials  and  work 
and  two  copies  of  each.     The  marble  work  will  be  the 
most  expensive  part  of  the  whole  job.    The  drawings  for 
it  ought  to  be  elaborated  more.     But  Mr.  De  Lang  says 
the  marble  men  will  submit  drawings  for  all  those  parts 
afterwards,  and  moldings  and  carvings  to  be  selected.    He 
made  an  unfinished  sketch  of  the  ornamental  cheeks  of 
the  marble  steps.     He  is  a  far  better  draughtsman  than 
I  am.    And  he  likes  that  kind  of  work;  I  suppose  that  is 
partly  the  secret  of  his  busying  himself  so  much  with  this 
job.     I  told  him  I  thought  he  would  make  a  very  good 
architect.    He  shook  his  head ;  "he  had  no  ideas,"  he  said. 
Mrs.  De  Lang  came  in  while  we  were  at  work.    She  came 
to  bid  us  good-by.     She  was  going  out.     She  did  not  say 
any  more  than  just  that,  ''she  was  going  out."    He  seemed 
to    feel   some   compunction    for    having   spoken   a    little 
harshly  at  luncheon.     But  his  manner  is  such  one  can 
hardly  tell  his  anger  from  his  repentance.     He  asked  her 
if  she  wanted  any  money.     She  said,  ''no,"  very  pleas- 
antly.   He  did  not  ask  her  where  she  was  going  nor  when 
she  was  coming  back. 

Accidentally,  in  turning,  she  brushed  against  me.     She 

smiled. 

September. 

All  this  day  I  have  been  going  with  Mr.  De  Lang  ni 
his  buggy  from  place  to  place  to  get  offers,  estimates,  bids, 
on  the  materials  and  also  some  work  for  the  different 
parts  of  Mr.  Mauresse's  gardening  job.  To  the  marble 
men  we  went  first  and  left  drawings  and  specifications 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

with  them  for  figuring,  returning  later  in  the  day  for  the 
bid.  Toward  evening  he  took  me  back  to  his  house, 
where  we  went  over  all  the  figures  and  made  out  my 
bid,  which  I  wrote  out  according  to  his  dictation,  signed 
and  closed.  Then,  together  with  my  original  sketch,  and 
also  one  of  the  tracings  of  the  working  plan,  and  one  copy 
of  the  speicfications,  I  took  it  to  Mr.  Mauresse's  place  of 
business.  It  was  so  late  I  had  expected  the  gentleman  to 
be  gone  home.  But  he  was  there  I  and  I  handed  him  the 
papers. 

He  made  as  though  he  would  open  the  envelope  con- 
taining the  bid,  but  desisted  and  put  all  the  papers  on  his 
desk,  turning  to  face  me,  almost  like  wanting  to  prevent 
me  from  getting  at  them  again. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  hope  this  will  be  satisfactory." 

J  replied  that  I  had  figured  the  job  carefully,  as  low 
as  possible,  as  he  had  told  me  to  do,  and  that  I  hoped 
to  get  it. 

"If  you  are  five  cents  the  lowest,  I  give  you  the  prefer- 
ence," he  assured  me.  "I  shall  let  you  know  on  Monday: 
I  shall  inform  Mr.  De  Lang.  He  has  told  me  that  he  will 
be  your  bondsman.  He  is  a  good  man.  If  we  come  to  an 
understanding,  you  may  then  right  away  go  to  my  archi- 
tect and  sign  the  contract  he  will  draw  up.  And  the 
bond.  There  is  no  necessity  of  having  a  lawyer  draw 
up  the  papers.  The  architect  can  do  it  just  as  well,  better 
in  fact,  and  much  cheaper.  I  am  saving  you  that  much 
money.  You  pay  for  the  contract,  you  know.  And  you 
pay  for  the  bond.  And  the  acknowledgment.  I  know 
Mr.  De  Lang,  and  I  know  he  is  a  good  man,  but  I  must 
have  his  signature  acknowledged  before  a  notary  public. 
Business !  And  it  is  proper  that  you  should  pay  for  that, 
not  I.  Or  he,  as  you  arrange  it.  I  don't  care.  It  will 
cost  half  a  dollar.  What  is  half  a  dollar?  You  make 
that  on  the  job  in  half  an  hour.  Don't  tell  me!  Mr.  De 
Lang  is  a  good  man." 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Mr.  De  Lang  invited  me  to  dine  with  him  to-night.  I 
told  him  I  ought  to  be  the  one  to  pay  for  the  dinner 
this  time.  He  said  I  had  better  wait  till  the  contract  was 
signed  before  I  invited  people  to  dinners  on  the  job.  As  I 
came  home  just  now  from  Mr.  Mauresse's  offices,  to  clean 
up  a  little  for  the  dinner,  Mrs.  Carpenter  scared  me  by 
handing  me  a  letter.  I  had  vision  of  Mr.  Snivers.  It 
was  from  Mr.  Brown,  asking  me  to  call  about  some  work. 
I  am  going  to  Mr.  De  Lang's  now.  I  can  truly  say,  I 
wish  he  had  not  invited  me.  Mrs.  De  Lang  has  not  been 
home  since  yesterday  afternoon.  He  was  rather  in  a 
peculiar  humor  all  day  to-day.  I  thought  at  first  this 
morning  he  had  heard  from  her.  Maybe  he  has.  I  don't 
want  to  ask. 

Late  night. 

Mr.  De  Lang  took  me  to  dinner  at  the  same  place  where 
we  dined  before.  After  dinner  he  invited  me  to  go  to  the 
theatre  wath  him.  I  have  been  avoiding  all  theatres.  I 
know  how  they  affect  me.  I  tried  to  excuse  myself.  But 
a  few  glasses  of  claret  had  given  sway  in  him  to  a  clam- 
orous insistence  on  having  his  way  that  I  had  to  submit 
to.  We  went  to  a  variety  theatre.  It  was  not  much 
more  than  an  ordinary  place,  yet  all  the  conditions  of  it, 
the  lights,  the  music,  the  crowd  and  their  noise,  the  acts 
and  even  the  very  poor  scenery  excited  me  to  high 
degree,  awakening  I  don't  know  what  all  in  me. 

A  young,  Spanish  looking  girl  was  one  of  the  perform- 
ers. Twelve  years  old  I  took  her  to  be.  The  play  bill 
called  her  vStella,  and  her  act  an  acrobatic  dance,  that  was 
about  the  right  name  for  it.  Near  the  end  of  the  act 
quite  a  small  child,  dressed  as  a  clown,  came  on  the 
stage,  and  the  two  finished  the  dance  together  to  great 
applause. 

Mr.  De  Lang  was  growding  out  something  about  not 
liking  to  see  children  made  do  such  things.  I  told  hirh 
they  were  very  easy ;  when   I   was  a   bov   I   had  prac- 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tised  such  tricks  and  had  enjoyed  doing  them.  Then,  in 
the  emotion  of  the  moment,  I  told  him  that  I  had  had  a 
little  brother,  no  bigger  than  this  little  clown,  with  whom 
I  had  been  used  to  go  through  some  gymnastics  like  these, 
and  we  never  had  been  hurt. 

**Well,"  he  asked,  ''were  you  on  the  stage?" 

"Well,  no,  not  with  my  brother,  and  not  in  such  acts! 
But  yes,  I  have  once  been  on  the  stage,  long  ago,  acting, 
singing,  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  was  a  member  of  an  opera 
company,  a  children's  opera  company." 

"Now,"  he  drawled,  "I  always  had  an  idea  you  had 
been  on  the  stage,  I  don't  know  what,  but  something  gave 
me  the  notion.  And  you  are  not  affected  neither.  I  did 
not  know  till  just  now  though.  I  mean,  I  did  not  know  I 
had  the  idea.     Was  it  here  in  town?" 

I  said  it  had  been  here,  and  he  proceeded  with  putting 
some  more  questions.  I  named  our  company  and  went  on 
to  describe  the  whole  business  to  him,  when,  after  awhile, 
having  caught  up  with  me,  he  interrupted  me,  saying  he 
knew  all  about  it. 

"I  heard  those  children  sing,"  he  continued,  and  began 
to  tell  me  the  particulars ;  but  it  took  him  so  long  that  the 
intermission  had  come  to  an  end  before  he  had  finished 
and  a  new  act  had  commenced,  stopping  our  conversation 
until  the  act  was  over.  The  next  one  being  some  athletics, 
gave  us  a  chance  to  talk  again. 

"There  was  a  girl  in  that  company,"  he  resumed,  "a 
pretty  little  girl,  smaller  than  this  one ;  she  was  very 
good.  She  sang  and  acted  the  best  I  ever  heard.  That 
is  all  I  remember.  I  don't  remember  you.  Rut  that  is  a 
long  time  ago,  nineteen  years." 

"Oh,  no,  not  more  than  fifteen." 

"Well,  perhaps,"  he  conceded.  "What  was  her  name?" 
was?" 

"Carmen !     Carmencita !" 

"Carmencita!     Well,  if  that  is  not  Spanish  all  over! 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

What  does  it  mean  anyhow?     Carmencita!     And  you? 

Did  you  sing  with  her?  Could  you  sing?  What  made 
you  quit?" 

"I  lost  my  voice." 

He  seemed  to  be  ready  with  some  objection  to  this, 
when  our  attention  was  drawn  to  the  girl,  Stella,  appear- 
ing in  the  audience.  She  must  have  come  into  the  audi- 
torium by  the  stage  door  and  was  going  down  the  differ- 
ent aisles,  peddling  her  photographs  at  twenty-five  cents 
apiece.  We  watched  her.  She  looked  off  the  stage  still 
prettier  than  on  it.  There  was  a  gentle  seriousness  about 
her,  one  felt  more  than  one  saw.  The  little  clown  was 
not  with  her.  When  she  came  to  our  row,  Mr.  De  Lang, 
who  had  the  aisle  seat,  held  out  a  five  dollar  gold  piece 
to  her. 

She  looked  at  him  very  earnestly.     ''That  is  gold,"  she 

said. 

"I  know  it,"  he  answered,  ''take  it." 

She  told  him  her  father  did  not  allow  her  to  take  more 
than  the  price  of  the  photographs  bought,  from  anybody, 
and  she  moved  to  go,  which  was  exactly  the  thing  to 
make  Mr.  De  Lang  more  insistent,  and  he  stretched  out 
his  hand  to  detain  her.  She  grew  first  pale,  then  red,  and. 
speaking  very  low,  said,  'Tlease  take  your  hand  away." 

She  stood  perfectly  still,  showing  no  fear,  but  at  the 
same  time  turned  her  eyes  to  mine  with  a  look  of  both 
appeal  and  reproof,  as  though  she  would  say:  'This  man. 
I  see,  is  not  himself,  but  you,  why  don't  you  help  me?" 

I  was  afraid  that  to  oppose  and  thwart  Mr.  De  Lang 
would  only  make  things  worse,  and,  after  all,  he  had  only 
meant  it  kindly.  However,  her  look  made  me  quickly 
exert  myself  to  do  something.  I  observed  to  him  that 
he  might  buy  five  dollars'  worth  of  the  photographs  from 
her;  she  could  sell  him  so  much  and  more  without  dis- 
obeying her  father.  He  caught  at  the  idea,  laughed, 
coughed,  asked  how  many  pictures  she  had  in  her  little 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

leather  bag,  saying  he  would  take  them  all,  running  his 
hands  down  his  pockets  for  more  money. 

A  deeper  blush  and  a  smiling  glance  were  my  reward. 

I  suggested  that  we  should  go  and  see  the  father  of 
Stella,  and  that  she  should  come  there  as  soon  as  she  was 
disengaged,  when  we  would  settle  everything. 

I  asked  her  father's  name.    It  was  Moreno. 

"But  he  is  home  giving  my  brother  lessons,"  she  ex- 
plained. 

"And  your  mother  ?"  I  asked. 

"She  is  sitting  in  the  last  row,  this  side  aisle." 

"And  what  has  become  of  the  little  clown  ?"  I  inquired. 

"She  is  with  mama." 

"She  ?    I  thought  it  was  a  boy." 

"No,  sir,  it  is  my  sister  Nina." 

"And  you  have  a  brother  at  home  who  does  not  act?" 

"Yes,  sir,  the  Children's  Aid  Society  won't  let  him  act. 
They  let  me  act  because  I  am  older.  And  they  let  Nina 
act  because  she  only  has  to  come  in  at  the  last  figure  and 
stand  on  my  shoulders." 

Without  thinking  I  asked  how  old  she  was.  She 
blushed,  hesitated,  and  said  "sixteen,"  so  low,  one  could 
hardly  hear  her ;  blushing  still  more  when  Mr.  De  Lang 
exclaimed :  "What  a  story !" 

He  was  quite  ready  now  to  go  and  see  Mrs.  Moreno. 
Stella  smiled.  She  smiled  again  as  she  went  farther  down 
the  aisle,  while  we  walked  back  toward  the  rear,  where 
through  looking  up  the  little  girl  who,  we  could  imagine, 
must  be  the  little  clown,  we  very  soon  located  the  mother, 
and  laid  our  case  before  her. 

The  lady  was  very  quick,  I  must  say,  to  understand  the 
case,  to  weigh  Mr.  De  Lang  and  judge  his  manner.  She 
repeated  that  her  husband  would  not  permit  the  children 
to  take  money  from  anybody  and  everybody.  But  if  a 
gentleman  like  Mr.  De  Lang  wanted  to  make  Stella  a 
present,  there  could  be  no  objection.     And  Stella  would 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

be  only  too  glad  to  accept  it.  If  Mr.  De  Lang  would  give 
Mrs.  Moreno  the  money,  she  would  give  it  to  Stella.  The 
joke  about  buying  out  the  stock  of  photographs  she 
treated  with  the  regard  it  merited.  It  was  a  good  joke 
but,  I  think,  the  five  dollars  exceeded  the  price  of  the 
pictures  at  twenty-five  cents  apiece. 

Mr.  De  Lang,  I  think,  had  wanted  to  give  Stella  the 
money  herself,  but  he  gave  it  to  the  mother. 

"And  this  is  the  little  clown,"  said  Mrs.  Moreno,  pre- 
senting the  little  girl. 

I  believe  she  did  it  perfectly  innocently,  but  Mr.  De 
Lang  laughed  rather  queerly,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  handed  the  child  a  bright  silver  dollar.  She  thanked 
him  very  pretttily  and  a  little  shamefaced,  which  made 
it  a  hundred  times  more  pretty,  and  captured  Mr.  De 
Lang  entirely. 

He  had  taken  the  seat  next  to  Mrs.  Moreno,  which  hap- 
pened to  be  unoccupied.  The  little  one  was  sitting  on  his 
knee.  It  made  me  think  of  his  home,  and  how  different 
it  would  be  if  he  but  had  a  child  in  it. 

I  was  standing  behind  them,  listening  to  Mrs.  Moreno's 
talk,  sometimes  watching  Stella  on  her  way  back  now%  up 
the  aisle,  making  signs  to  her  that  everything  was  settled 
and  all  right,  which  signs  she  did  not  seem  to  understand. 
Nor  could,  I  suppose,  anybody.  But  she  would  answer 
mv  smile. 

There  was  no  lack  of  voluntary  communication  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Moreno.  She  is  an  Irishwoman,  her  husband 
a  native  of  Chile.  They  had  met  and  married  in  Aus- 
tralia, where  she  had  gone  as  a  member  of  a  theatrical 
company  and  he  as  the  principal  clown  of  a  large  circus 
making  the  circuit  of  Australia  and  parts  of  Asia.  She 
had  gone  with  him,  and  the  children  had  been  born,  and 
it  had  been  a  life  of  happiness  and  content  till  Mr.  Moreno 
had  fallen  ill  and  been  rendered  unable  to  lead  the  life 
of  a  circus  man  any  longer. 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

The  children  were  their  mainstay  now.  And  here  Mrs. 
Moreno  grew  very  bitter,  complaining  of  the  local  Chil- 
dren's Aid  Society  forbidding  the  acting  of  the  children. 

"My  husband  is  the  kindest  of  men,"  she  exclaimed, 
"and  for  his  own  children  he  would  give  his  life.  He 
taught  them  himself.  They  did  their  tricks  since  they 
could  walk.  They  like  to  do  them.  It  is  to  them  play. 
And  it  is  in  the  family.  All  our  folks  have  been  in  the 
show  business  for  half  a  dozen  generations.  Why  should 
we  send  them  to  school?  My  husband  is  well  taught 
speaks  three  languages,  is  well  informed  and  experienced. 
He  can  teach  the  children  more  and  better  than  any 
schoolma'am.  Like  to-night  now,  he  is  home  giving  our 
boy  his  lesson.    You  must  come  and  see  our  boy." 

Stella  came  very  quietly  to  join  us.  She  looked  at  me 
a  little  as  if  she  would  excuse  herself  for  the  reproachful 
looks  she  had  given  me.  The  mother  gave  her  the 
money.  I  was  glad  now  Mr.  De  Lang  had  given  it  to  the 
mother.  Somehow  it  was  more  satisfactory  to  me  for  the 
mother  to  receive  it  first,  and  I  thought  I  understood  the 
correctness  of  the  rule  of  the  old  clown,  for  the  children 
to  take  no  money  presents.  She  was  glad  to  get  it 
through.  As  glad  as  a  child.  And  she  seems  to  me 
grown  up. 

She  was  standing  by  my  side.  The  little  Nina  com- 
menced to  gently  struggle  to  get  away  from  Mr.  De  Lang 
and  Mrs.  Moreno,  till  she  succeeded  and  came  and 
squeezed  herself  in  between  Stella  and  me.  1  lifted  her 
up  in  my  arms.  With  wonderful,  delightful  secrecy  she 
showed  Stella  her  silver  dollar. 

She  had  more  secrets.  She  was  thirsty.  And  Stella 
happened  to  be  thirsty  also,  and  asked  me  to  get  them  a 
large  glass  of  water.  I  was  detained  by  the  crowd  at 
the  bar.  When  T  got  back  I  found  Mr.  Moreno  had 
joined  the  party.  He  had  cut  his  boy's  evening  lesson 
short,  as  he  had'  been  tired,  had  sent  him  to  bed,  and  had 

386 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

come  to  the  theatre  to  see  his  wife  and  daughters  home. 

Stella  introduced  me  to  her  father.  He  knew  all  about 
the  presents  of  money  already.  Stella  had  some  little 
joking  remarks  to  make.  He  answered  her  the  same 
way.     I  could  only  listen,  smile,  and  not  say  anything. 

Mr.  De  Lang  wanted  to  order  some  wine  now,  but,  in 
spite  of  all  his  urging,  was  refused,  and  we  broke  up  and 
left  the  place  with  the  little  family  on  their  way  home. 
Stella  wanted  to  walk.  I  am  sure,  with  her  father  and 
me.  But  Mr.  De  Lang  wanted  to  walk  with  the  children, 
so  it  finally  fell  to  me  to  walk  with  Mrs.  Moreno,  who 
talked  to  me  about  the  children,  how  good  they  were  and 
bright  and  sweet  and  affectionate  and  truthful  and  strong 
and  able,  all  of  which  I  liked  to  hear  and  knew  to  be  true. 

When  we  came  to  their  street  we  parted  after  they  had 
invited  us  to  call  on  them  at  their  lodgings  on  Geary 
street.  Mr.  De  Lang  then  kept  on  walking  with  me  and 
talking,  till  we  walked  all  the  way  out  to  his  house.  He 
was  more  stirred  up  than  I  thought  he  ever  could  be. 
It  was  the  conversation  of  the  old  clown  that  had  worked 
him  up  so.  He  grew  quite  talkative  over  him,  although 
he,  by  this  time,  was  quite  free  from  the  influence  of  his 
dinner.  One  remark  of  Mr.  Moreno's  he  repeated  manv 
times.  In  speaking  of  theatrical  affairs,  Mr.  Moreno  had 
called  New  York  the  town  of  the  feeble  joke.  "That  is 
it  exactly,"  cried  Mr.  De  Lang,  "I  have  lived  there.  These 
clowns  are  sometimes  very  superior  people." 

When  I  came  home,  I  wrote  this.  Now  I  have  been 
standing  outside  on  the  porch.  The  night  is  clear.  There 
is  no  wind.     The  town  below  is  quite  asleep. 

Vain  regrets !  To  have  no  vain  regrets !  I  thought  I 
had  none.  I  looked  on  all  that  came  as  due  deserts.  I 
do  so  still.  That  is  not  what  m.akes  me  feel  desolate. 
But  this  little  family?  A  little  family  like  this,  is  it  not 
that  which  I  long  for?    What  would  be  my  happiness? 

And  mv  brother? 

387 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Something  will  come  to  tell  me  that  I  am  giving  up  my 
life  for  a  dream.  And  I  seem  to  hear  one  sa}^ :  ''Live 
your  own  life." 

How  handsome  that  girl  with  those  serious  eyes.  And 
joyous,  too !  With  what  frank,  childlike  gladness  she 
turned  to  me  to  tell  how  much  money  she  had  taken 
in,  showing  it ;  but  Mr.  De  Lang's  five  dollar  piece  first, 
and  again  last,  with  an  arch,  twinkling  glance,  as  though 
she  would  say,  "I  have  to  thank  you  for  that."  The  re- 
spect she  showed  her  parents!  Her  aflfection  for  the 
little  sister !  Her  love  for  the  half  broken-down,  kindly 
old  clown !    I  could  love  her  for  that  alone. 

And  must  I  put  all  such  away  from  me  ? 

She  sleeps. 

September. 

This  morning  I  walked  by  the  place  where  the  Morenos 
are  living.  It  is  an  apartment  house  of  the  cheap  kind, 
with  accommodations  for  cooking,  I  suppose.  I  was 
thinking  of  calling  on  them  this  evening  before  the  per- 
formance. I  was  thinking,  too,  of  getting  a  little  present 
to  give  Stella.  I  ought  not  to  do  this,  I  know,  but  I  should 
like  to.  What  can  I  give?  Now,  I  should  like  to  be  rich, 
so  as  to  do  everything  for  them !  And  would  that  make 
them  happier? 

As  long  as  I  was  idle,  I  walked  out  to  Mr.  Brown's,  to 
see  what  he  wanted.  He  had  a  little  job  for  me  to  do,  on 
Liberty  street.  I  told  him  of  my  prospective  job  for  Mr. 
Mauresse  and  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  his  con- 
sent to  my  employing  his  two  Manila  workmen  on  that 
job,  if  I  get  it.  I  had  been  thinking  of  this  scheme  before 
this.    I  shall  need  no  more  help  than  that. 

The  thought  came  to  me  just  now  that  Mr.  De  Lang 
might  take  his  wife  to  see  the  Moreno  family,  and  it 
gave  me  a  very  disagreeable  sensation  to  think  that  she 
and  Stella  should  meet. 

Evening. 

388 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

1  was  at  Mr.  De  Lang's  place.  I  think  I  wanted  to  see 
him,  to  ascertain  if  he  was  home  and  was  going  to  see 
the  Moreno  family  to-night.  I  never  expected  to  find  her 
at  home.  I  went  straight  into  the  back  yard.  The  kitchen 
screen  door  was  unhooked  and  the  inner  door  ajar,  i 
knocked.  I  received  no  answer.  1  looked  round  the  door. 
The  door  of  the  adjoining  bedroom  was  wide  open,  and 
she  stood  in  the  bedroom  smiling  at  me.  She  was  brush- 
ing her  hair,  giving  her  head  a  sort  of  toss.  It  was  a 
saucy  smile.  It  was  a  more  than  saucy  gesture.  I  did 
not  hear  it,  but  I  saw  her  say:  ''Come." 

What  must  I  do  now  ? 

September. 

I  went  to  Mr.  Mauresse's  new  residence  this  morning 
to  look  for  Mr.  De  Lang,  my  mind  fully  made  up  what 
to  do.  I  found  him  in  the  attic,  in  what  is  to  be  the 
children's  play  room,  where  he  was  alone,  laying  out  a 
stage  and  other  fittings. 

"Well,"  he  saluted  me,  *T  thought  I  should  see  you  last 
night  at  that  Spanish  clown's.  I  met  them  going  to  the 
theatre.  They  all  asked  for  you  and  we  waited  at  the 
theatre  after  the  girl's  performance  for  you  to  come.  I 
had  not  been  home  all  day.  and  I  did  not  know  my  wife 
had  come  home  till  I  came  home  late  at  night  after  twelve 
o'clock.  She  would  have  liked  to  go  to  the  show,  and  to 
meet  those  people ;  if  I  had  only  known  that  she  had 
come  home !  And  you  !  We  waited  for  you  all  the  even- 
ing, and  we  left  word  with  the  waiter  at  the  theatre 
to  tell  you  to  come  to  where  we  were,  if  you  should  put 
in  your  appearance.  I  took  them  all  to  supper  next  door. 
The  boy  was  along,  too.  He  is  the  funniest  fellow  out. 
He  can  walk  and  run  and  stalk  like  all  kinds  of  animals. 
He  had  the  whole  restaurant  roaring.  I  laughed  so  much 
I  could  not  breathe.  He  is  what  you  call  a  mimic.  He 
can  mimic  anything.  I  wish  you  had  been  there.  And 
the  girl  telephoned  twice  for  you  to  the  playhouse,  to  the 

389 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

waiter.  It  is  too  bad  you  could  not  come.  Perhaps  you 
did  not  want  to.  Are  they  not  the  smartest  children  ?  Is 
anything  the  matter?" 

When  I  told  him  I'd  like  to  speak  privately  to  him,  he 
closed  and  locked  the  doors  of  the  large  room  and  came 
to  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  platform  that  is  to  form  the  floor 
of  the  stage,  close  to  where  I  was  standing  on  the  attic 
floor  proper. 

I  said  to  him,  he  and  his  wife  had  treated  me  with 
such  unexampled  kindness ;  he  had,  I  well  might  say,  fed 
me  and  clothed  me  and  taken  me  into  his  house,  and  he 
had  now  offered  himself  as  bondsman  for  me,  I  simply 
could  not  help  myself,  I  had  to  tell  him  that  I  was  a  par- 
doned convict  who  had  left  the  prison  but  one  month  ago, 
but  one  week  before  the  day  he  first  had  seen  me ;  that 
I  had  been  in  prison  on  a  life  sentence  for  killing  a  man. 

When  he  did  not  speak,  but  sat,  keeping  his  eyes  away 
from  me,  J  went  on  to  tell,  but  not  as  collectively,  cer- 
tainly, as  it  then  appeared  to  me,  "how  the  jury  that 
tried  me  had  found  me  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first 
degree,  but  on  account  of  my  extreme  youth  had  fixed  the 
penalty  at  imprisonment  for  life;  that  I  had  found 
friends  in  the  prison  from  the  first,  friends  in  the  officers 
and  in  the  prisoners,  too,  especially  in  one  of  the  last- 
appointed  prison  directors,  who  had  succeeded  in  getting 
me  pardoned ;  that  I  ought  to  have  told  him  this  before  I 
allowed  him  to  take  me  into  his  house  the  very  first 
time,  but  had  not  had  the  strength  to  do  it.  Nor,  must  I 
say  for  a  true  excuse,  had  it  seemed  so  utterly  necessary, 
as  he  had  shown  a  liberal  mindedness  w^hich  at  first  must 
lessen  my  consciousness  of  wrong-doing,  although  event- 
ually, as  it  had  done,  increase  it  and  raised  my  feeling  of 
duty  and  accountability  to  a  pitch  which  nothing  but  unre- 
served confession  could  satisfy.  And  I  had  made  my 
confession  now." 

As  he  sat  silent,  glancing  now  and  then  at  me,  I  could 

390 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

fancy  him  telling  himself  that  he  always  had  had  an 
idea  that  something  was  wrong  with  me. 

"You  must  have  been  quite  young,"  he  drawled  at  last 
so  quietly  I  could  not  tell  if  it  was  indifference  or  was  he 
giving  me  a  leading  point.  I  took  it,  however,  as  such  a 
point,  and  responded:  "I  was  very  young.  I  don't  know 
my  age  to  several  months,  but  I  was  under  fifteen  years 
of  age;  probably  little  over  fourteen." 

It  sounded  like  a  breath  of  relief  as  he  inquired,  "How 
did  you  come  to  kill  him  ?" 

"He  was  my  father's  half  brother.  It  is  a  long  story. 
I  don't  know  that  I  can  tell  it  as  it  ought  to  be  told,  if  I 
am  to  tell  it  in  a  few  words,  not  to  detain  you.  He  and 
my  father  were  half  brothers.  My  father  was  an  illegiti- 
mate child,  as  I  am  of  him.  The  other  was  the  legitimate 
son,  both  of  the  same  father !  There  is  not  the  least 
doubt  in  my  mind  that  they  were  true  half  brothers,  sons 
of  the  same  man,  though  he  never  acknowledged  my 
father's  father.  But,  however  that  was,  he  adopted  my 
father  when  he  was  about  eight  or  nine  years  old,  letting 
the  two  boys  that  were  nearly  of  an  age.  grow  up  together 
as  brothers." 

And  I  proceeded  to  relate  my  story  as  concisely  as  I 
could,  seeming  peculiarly  to  understand  it  better  myself 
as  I  went  on  telling  it,  at  least  I  fancied  I  did.  Perhaps 
the  interest,  the  sympathy  that  Mr.  De  Lang  manifested 
with  all  his  quietness,  influenced  me. 

"I  was  very  young,"  I  repeated  when  I  had  finished, 
"but  I  make  that  no  excuse.  And  I  don't  know  that  my 
youth  made  any  difference,  except  that  if  I  had  been 
older  I  should  perhaps  first  have  tried  to  get  my  little 
brother  out  of  this  fellow's  hands  through  some  Children's 
Aid  Society.  But  yet,  could  I  have  taken  the  risk  of  his 
getting  hold  of  my  brother  again?  They  were  rich  now. 
They  could  do  anything. 

I  don't  know  that  before  this  moment,  my  thinking  and 

391 


CHRONICLES  Of  ^MANUEL  ALANUS 

acting  at  that  time  has  ever  made  itself  so  fully  clear  to 
me. .  I  felt  then,  as  I  feel  now,  as  I  have  never  at  any 
time  since  felt  differently.  I  knew  this  man,  what  he  was 
and  what  he  would  do.  1  must  save  my  brother  from 
him.  To  do  that  I  must  kill  the  man.  There  was  no 
other  way.    And  for  that  I  was  willing  to  give  my  life. 

At  the  same  time  I  had  some  notions  of  fair  play.  I 
wanted  to  fight  fair,  though  I  must  kill  him.  We  had  met 
at  my  father's  burial.  I  did  not  then  know  that  he 
already  had  begun  his  brutish,  cruel  treatment  of  my  little 
crippled  brother.  As  soon  as  I  had  heard  of  his  horrible 
deeds  I  followed  him  to  the  place  in  the  country,  belong- 
ing to  an  acquaintance  of  his,  where  he  had  gone  to 
hide  in  fear  of  me,  not  knowing  that  I  was  better  ac- 
quainted in  all  those  parts  than  ever  he  was.  I  knew  he 
would  go  armed,  but  to  make  doubly  sure  of  his  arming 
himself  and  being  prepared  for  me,  I  let  him  know  where 
I  was  waiting  for  him.  He  tried  to  escape  by  an  old  un- 
used road  over  the  mountains,  but  I  was  there.  I  let  him 
fire  at  me,  emptying  his  magazine,  and  gave  him  plenty 
time  to  load  again.  And  he  had  begun  his  firing  from 
behind  a  rock  at  first  sight  of  me.  But  all  the  time  I  knew 
I  should  kill  him." 

"What  are  you  telling  me  all  this  for?"  growled  Mr. 
De  Lang.  "You  should  not  go  into  details  that  way.  I 
don't  go  in  for  killing.  I  can  imagine  cases  where  I 
could  kill  a  man  myself,  but  I  don't  go  in  for  it.  I  don't 
want  to  know  all  this.  If  you  say  you  killed  a  man,  all 
right !  Well,  no !  Not  all  right !  I  don't  want  to  say 
that,  but  still,  it  is  done.  Everybody  has  done  something 
some  time  that  he  deserves  being  shot  for.  Well,  if  he 
is,  it  is  done.  Say  no  more  about  it.  If  you  go  into 
details,  you  spoil  the  case  and  make  people  feel  bad." 

'*I  had  to  tell  you  this,"  I  said.  "I  have  done.  For  my 
life  in  prison,  my  character,  I  can  refer  you  to  the  prison 
officials."     And  then  I  told  him  about  Ullard  and  his 

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CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

teachings  to  save  me  from  the  degradation  of  prison  Hfe. 

''Well/'  he  questioned,  "what  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

I  did  not  speak,  and  he  looked  at  me  almost  angrily. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go  to  Mr.  Mauresse  and  inform 
him  that  you  want  to  throw  up  his  job?  What  is  your 
object?" 

I  found  it  not  so  easy  to  say  what  my  object  was,  but 
I  had  to  speak. 

I  said  I  would  tell  him  how  1  felt.  I  did  not  want  to 
give  up  Mr.  Mauresse's  job,  nor  any  job.  I  did  not  want 
him  to  let  Mr.  Mauresse  know  anything  I  had  told  him, 
nor  anybody  else.  I  wanted  to  retain  his  friendship.  He 
had  been  to  me  I  could  not  say  what  all,  nor  what  I 
should  be  without  him.  And  so  I  beseeched  him  to  let  it 
be.  Not  to  throw  me  off,  to  let  me  have  him  for  a  bene- 
factor still,  not  to  withdraw  his  helping  hand  now !  If  I 
had  never  met  him,  maybe  I  should  have  gotten  along 
in  a  manner  by  myself,  but  now,  having  been  made  so 
much  more  of  a  man  by  his  treatment,  I  should  be  lost 
without  him.  Therefore  I  wanted  him  to  let  everything 
stand  as  it  was,  only  not  to  take  me  into  his  house.  Let 
me  stay  outside  of  that  and  of  other  homes !  Not  to  let 
me  bring  the  atmosphere  of  the  prison  into  them.  For  the 
point  was  not  the  criminal  act  I  had  committed,  if  it  had 
been  a  criminal  act,  the  point  was  the  prison  life  I  had 
led. 

He  was  silent  an  awful  long  minute,  when  he  said,  with 
his  usual  drawl : 

"Don't  tell  my  wife.  Of  course  I  shall  not  tell  anybody 
anything,  but  don't  tell  her.  There  would  be  no  danger  of 
her  telling,  because  she  would  not  remember,  but  it  would 
make  you  too  interesting." 

I  could  not  give  the  smile  he  was  perhaps  wanting  to 
call  up. 

He  shook  hands  with  me.  "I  reckon  you  told  me  this," 
he  remarked,  "to  give  me  the  chance  to  back  out  of  going 

393 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

on  your  bond.  Now,  I  am  glad  you  told  me.  It  makes  no 
difference.  Don't  think  for  a  moment  that  it  makes  any 
difference  with  me.  Suppose  you  feel  the  way  you  tell 
me,  let  it  go  at  that.  If  you  want  to  draw  the  line  at 
entering  my  house  and  other  homes,  you  are  the  man  to 
do  it.  But  I  think  you  are  wrong,  you  ought  to  just 
enter  any  home  you  can.  However,  at  first  it  may  be  as 
well.  After  a  while  you  will  naturally  come  to  it  any- 
how. And  will  you  not  go  to  that  Spanish  family  now  ? 
That  girl  thinks  the  world  of  you.  They  are  going  to 
Australia.  Well,  perhaps  by  the  time  they  come  back! 
All  right !    I  am  glad  you  told  me." 

We  began  talking  about  our  job.  He  said  he  was  sat- 
isfied Mr.  Mauresse  wanted  me  to  do  the  work,  if  only  I 
was  not  too  high.  And  he  advised  me  to  go  and  see  the 
architect  of  Mr.  Mauresse's,  whom  I  should  be  able  to 
find  in  his  office  to-morrow  forenoon. 

Once  more  shaking  hands,  we  parted. 

Evening. 

At  last  someone  to  have  some  knowledge  of  my  father ! 
Mrs.  Stillborn! 

It  is  not  much  she  knows  or  wants  to  tell,  but  it  excites 
me,  and  it  comes  in  time  to  quell  other  excitements.  I 
never  thought  of  Mrs.  Stillborn  before  this  day,  as  one 
who  might  know  something  about  our  family.  I  went  to 
her  place  to-day  merely  to  busy  myself  and  not  think  too 
much  of  other  things.  The  agreement  I  have  entered 
into  there  is  that  I  shall  put  in  my  Sundays,  or  rather  half 
of  them,  keeping  the  place  in  trim,  till  Mr.  Mauresse's  job 
is  finished.  I  get  very  good  wages,  if  only  I  get  the  money 
without  so  much  palavering! 

When  I  was  making  shift  to  go  away  to-night  I  had  the 
sudden  thought  to  ask  Mrs.  Stillborn  if  she  heard  of  my 
father.  She  had  been  hindering  me  all  the  afternoon  at 
my  work,  speaking  of  old  times  and  old  times  people.  Per- 
.haps  that  put  the  notion  in  my  head.     I  made  up  a  little 

394 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

story  how  1  had  heard  it  said  that  this  place  of  hers  had 
formerly  belonged  to  a  family  by  the  name  of  Alauus. 
She  answered  no,  and  that  she  had  bought  the  place  from 
a  widow  Delany. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "that  comes  pretty  near  it." 

*'Not  at  all,"  she  objected.  "Alanus?  1  know  the  name 
quite  well.  There  was  a  family  here  by  the  name  of 
Alanus,  and  a  most  disreputable  family  they  were.  Did 
you  never  hear  of  old  One-Per-Cent  a  Minute,  they  called 
him?  Did  you  know  him?  But  you  could  not.  You 
were  too  young.    He  was  one  of  the  richest  men  in  town." 

"The  first  time  I  worked  here,"  I  faltered,  "I  met  a 
man,  as  I  was  going  aw^ay,  who  seemed  to  be  a  neighbor, 
and  who  began  to  talk  to  me  and  told  me  that  you  had 
bought  this  house  and  lot  at  an  incredibly  low  figure 
from  a  Mr.  Alanus,  or,  I  should  say,  a  Mrs.  Alanus, 
who  sold  the  place  below  value  as  she  was  going  away 
from  here  to  live  in  Chicago  or  Europe,  some  twelve 
years  ago." 

"What  confusion!"  called  out  Mrs.  Stillborn.  "The 
Alanus  never  owned  this  place.  They  had  a  place  in 
South  Park,  but  they  always  lived  in  the  country.  How- 
ever, that  about  Mrs.  Alanus'  going  away  is  not  wrong. 
She  must  have  been  going  away  about  that  time.  And  I 
am  sure  she  must  have  been  willing  and  ready  to  do 
almost  anything  to  get  away  from  this  town.  Good 
reason  why.  Because  nobody  here  would  have  anything 
to  do  with  such  an  odious,  absolutely  indecent  person.  Of 
course  it  is  so  long  ago  that  one  forgets,  but  I  remember 
that  there  were  the  most  disgraceful  carryings-on  in  that 
family.  Incredible  scandals !  Any  number  of  illegitimate 
children!  A  whole  family  of  misers,  bastards,  usurers 
and  spendthrifts,  fighting  amongst  themselves,  committing 
every  kind  of  felony,  to  actual  murder!  Some  of  them 
are  in  states  prison  now." 

395 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

And  such  appears  my  family  to  others !  And  what  can 
I  deny? 

My  best  friend  now,  I  think,  is  Mr.  Carpenter,  who 
evening  after  evening  comes  into  my  room  as  soon  as  he 
is  through  supper  and  I  am  come  home,  and  asks  for 
music,  makes  me  play  and  praises  my  playing,  makes  me 
play  more,  talks  in  between  and  makes  me  talk,  often 
coaxes  me  into  his  neat  kitchen,  where  his  wife  makes  us 
a  lemonade,  and  where  we  sit  comfortably,  pleasantly 
discussing  the  past  day,  falling  back  each  time  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation  gives  out  on  music,  with  more  prais- 
ing of  my  talent  and  execution,  which  I  think  not  half 
insincere  and  makes  me  feel  good. 

Homely  happiness! 

No,  it  hardly  deserves  the  name  of  happiness.  And 
there  is  also  the  shadow  of  homely  sorrow  on  the  com- 
monplace life.  The  son  and  daughter  left  the  father,  that 
took  another  wife,  after  their  mother  had  died.  He 
misses  the  young  people  very  much,  though  he  may  not 
rightly  know  what  he  misses,  li  he  says  in  his  way,  "that 
since  they  showed  themselves  as  they  did  their  absence 
is  a  small  loss  and  that  anyhow  it  was  no  different  than  if 
they  were  moved  to  another  place,"  I  don't  think  that 
makes  the  hardness  of  their  action  felt  less.  She  cer- 
tainly feels  it  more  than  he.  Sometimes  she  looks  at 
him  with  a  sort  of  pity  in  her  face,  when  something  is 
mentioned  that  brings  us  near  the  subject.  She  feels  it 
for  him  and  for  herself.  He  feels  it  less  for  her.  He 
cannot  feel  the  sting  of  the  additional -slight  to  her,  and 
the  self -blame.  And  the  young  people,  I  suppose,  feel  the 
marriage  as  a  slight  to  the  dead  mother  who  must  have 
been  a  good  woman,  I  think,  and  a  good  wife. 

I  feel  the  want  of  work.    I  must  work. 

September. 

My  little  jobs  of  taking  care  of  places,  like  Mrs.  Jack- 
son's, I  have  given  to  an  old  man  whom  Mr.  Carpenter 

396 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

recommended  to  me,  and  who  is  now  already  seeing  to 
Mr.  De  Lang's  garden  patch.  I  was  lucky  enough  to  find 
everybody  at  home  when  I  took  my  substitute  to  the 
(liflferent  places  and  introduced  him  to  the  owners.  And 
everybody  professed  themselves  satisfied,  if  sorry  at  my 
desertion,  and  glad  to  hear  of  my  getting  a  good  job.  I 
have  not  got  it  yet. 

I  walked  past  the  lodgings  of  the  Moreno  family.  I 
was  afraid  some  of  them  would  see  me  and  come  out 
after  me.  And  I  don't  know  if  I  was  not  wishing  they 
would  and  walking  slowly  on  purpose. 

I  called  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Mauresse's  architect,  who 
was  very  important,  explaining  to  me  all  points  of  the 
contract,  giving  me  a  great  deal  of  superfluous  advice 
and  some  tracings  of  drawings  for  the  marble  work  of 
the  front,  which  is  all  changed  now,  the  whole  of  that 
work  being  now,  following  my  sketch,  included  in  my 
bid,  making  the  contract  for  the  gardening  so  much 
bigger.  So  much  so,  indeed,  that  I  sometimes  think  Mr. 
Mauresse  will  consider  the  whole  thing  too  costly  alto- 
gether and  give  it  up  or  have  it  worked  out  plainer.  I 
should  be  very  well  satisfied  then  to  do  the  real  gardening 
part  of  the  job  by  the  day  at  ordinary  wages,  rather  than 
the  way  it  is  nov/.  In  truth,  I  am  sorry  I  have  this  con- 
tract before  me.  I  am  neither  sure  about  the  financial 
outcome  of  it,  nor  my  ability  to  carry  out  the  design.  It 
seems  to  me  now  not  only  presumptions,  but  utterly  fool- 
ish to  undertake  this  business  at  all.  If  it  was  not  for 
Mr.  De  Lang's  good  opinion  of  me  I  should  back  out  of 
the  proposition  to-day.  And  that,  what  may  it  be  but 
entirely  illusory?  If  I  think  that  he  has  a  good  opinion 
oi  me,  which  I  possess  vanity  enough  not  to  v/ant  to  for- 
feit, he  may  think  reversedly  that  I  have  the  highest  opin- 
ion of  his  qualities,  which  he  may  be  vain  enough  not  to 
want  me  to  lose.  Still  behind  it  is  something,  a  certain 
influence  of  what  I  should  call  business-likeness. 

397 


CHROXUCLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

September. 

Everything  is  settled.  All  contracts  are  signed.  But 
what  could  I  do  without  Mr.  De  Lang? 

Some  day  Mrs.  Mauresse  is  going  with  me  to  the  nur 
sery   near    San   Jose,   of   which    I    saw   the   owner   last 
Tuesday,  to  pick  out  some  dwarf  roses  for  the  grounds. 
That  is  now  the  day  ahead,  when  I  hope  to  get  the  oppor- 
tunity of  finding  out  who  owns  my  father's  ranch. 

September. 

A  light  rain  of  about  four  hours  duration  in  the  night 
before  last  has  come  exactly  at  the  right  time  and  in  the 
suitable  quantity.  The  concretemen  are  at  work  on  the 
lot ;  the  marblemen  are  at  full  go  in  the  shops.  Nothing 
but  work  now ! 

1  went  to  Mrs.  Stillborn's  this  morning  and  worked 
till  two  o'clock.  Mr.  Stillborn  was  in  the  country,  and  so 
I  did  not  receive  any  pay.  I  spoke  seriously  to  Mrs. 
Stillborn,  but  to  no  purpose.  "What  did  I  tell  you?"  she 
cried.  ** Never  bother  me  for  money."  I  bothered  her 
with  all  kind  of  talk  till  J  could  introduce  Mrs.  Alaiuis. 
I  did  it  awkwardly  enough,  I  believe,  but  without  exciting 
any  suspicion  of  my  object.  I  have  satisfied  myself  that 
she  knows  nothing  of  Mrs.  Alanus'  present  whereabouts. 

September. 

To-day  I  feel  as  if  I  was  not  so  very  far  from  sharing 
Mr.  Mauresse's  opinion  about  the  close  of  Mr.  Tern  Ol- 
dock's  career.  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  owns  my  father's  ranch, 
lie  bought  it  about  seven  years  ago,  and  Mrs.  Sullivan's 
little  farm  likewise.  It  seems*  my  father  had  bought  that 
just  at  that  time  when  he  moved  to  town  with  us.  He 
never  told  me  he  had  done  so,  but  I  thought  from  the  first 
he  would  take  it  ofif  her  hands.  I  think  he  had  a  mort- 
gage on  it.  I  remember  the  first  horseback  ride  I  took 
with  him  to  her  place,  when  he,  in  a  way  I  could  not 
understand,  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  the  transaction. 
as  if  lie  wanted  my  approval. 

398 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

I  wonder  why  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  bought  all  this  proi>- 
erty  that  once  was  my  father's.  Yet  why  should  he  not  ? 
He  must  look  up  investments  for  his  nioney.  And  I 
dare  say  he  got  it  cheap.  I  dare  say  the  widow  squan- 
dered all  she  could.  If  she  owned  it  yet.  1  might  have 
found  out  now  where  she  is.  So.  as  I  have  not  found 
it  out,  I  think  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  is  on  the  road  to  the 
poorhouse. 

I  was  notified  yesterday  that  Mrs.  Mauresse  would  io- 
day  go  to  San  Jose  w^ith  me  to  visit  the  nursery  of  the 
man  I  had  seen  and  spoken  to  about  his  dwarf  roses,  and 
so  we  w'ent.  One  of  her  nieces  was  of  the  party  and  one 
of  her  little  boys.  The  day  was  most  beautiful,  and  she 
was  as  beautiful  as  the  day.  But  I  cannot  say  that  this 
day  has  increased  my  admiration  of  her.  She  is  altogether 
very  democratic,  almost  to  a  lack  of  refinement.  She 
prides  herself  on  being  what  she  calls  businesslike,  but 
it  is  nothing  but  ordinary,  niggardly  closeness,  and 
doubly  ofiFensive  where  coupled  with  so  much  wealth  and 
charm,  or  at  least  beauty  and  daintiness  of  person. 

She  was  quite  distressed  when  she  found  that  we  could 
not  reach  the  nursery  we  were  going  to  by  the  street  cars 
on  any  line  or  combination  of  lines,  and  that  she  would 
have  to  hire  a  carriage  to  take  us  there.  She  walked  us 
round  the  streets  a  good  many  blocks  to  find  a  cheap 
coflFee  saloon,  the  cheapest  kind  of  an  eating  house,  and 
far  from  clean,  to  take  our  luncheon  at :  from  liere  she 
telephoned  to  every  livery  stable  in  town  to  get  the 
lowest  priced  rig.  Again  at  the  nursery  it  was  bargaining, 
haggling,  beating  down  to  get  prices  below  anybody  else. 

By  sheer  good  luck,  missing  a  train,  detaining  us  one 
hour.  I  got  the  chance  to  go  to  the  ofiice  of  the  Assessor. 

In  town  when  we  came  back  the  fog  was  flying  and 
the  smoke  also. 

If  my  father  had  only  willed  my  brother  the  ranch  or 
part  of  it ! 

399 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

Or  only  Mrs.  Sullivan's  small  patch! 

September. 

To-day  I  received  the  first  payment  on  the  job,  which 
I  paid  all  out  to  sub-contractors  and  material  men.  It 
looks  as  if  I  should  come  out  pretty  well  on  the  contract. 
I  told  Mr.  DeLang  I  thought  so.  He  retorted  quite 
roughly :  "Don't  you  ever  say  one  word  about  that  to 
anybody.  Never  let  anybody  know  how  you  stand,  what 
money  you  make  or  lose." 

October. 

The  second  payment  on  my  contract  fell  due  to-day. 
The  job  is  done.  I  never  believed  I  could  feel  so  pleased 
at  anything  of  that  sort.  Everybody  praises  it.  That  I 
do  not  care  for.  Mr.  Mauresse  and  his  family  are  quite 
tickled,  that  I  like  more.  What  most  satisfies  me  is  that 
Mr.  De  Lang  likes  it  and  thinks  well  of  me  for  it. 

By  Mr.  De  Lang's  advice  I  have  paid  out  one-half  of 
this  payment  to  the  sub-contractors  and  material  men 
and  put  the  other  half  in  the  bank.  The  last  payment, 
when  it  comes  due,  will  more  than  cover  all  claims.  I 
have  just  done  what  Mr.  De  Lang  has  told  me  to  do.  But 
T  find  there  is  now  something  springing  up  in  me  that 
appears  to  me  remarkable.  Since  I  now  possess  this  money, 
T  seem  to  like  it.  When  did  I  ever  care  for  money  ?  But, 
to  be  sure,  I  never  had  any  to  care  for.  And  now  I  have, 
and  it  seems  to  make  a  change  in  me.  I  like  the  having 
it,  the  possessing  it.  I  wish  it  was  more.  I  feel  as 
though  I  wanted  to  save  it,  make  more.  I  even  feel  a 
disinclination  to  pay  it  out,  an  anxiousness  I  might  lose 
it.  I  think  of  putting  all  T  now  have  out  on  interest. 
Hoard ! 

It  is  only  a  few  hundred  dollars.  I  could  go  to  Boston 
now.  And  now  it  seems  unnecessary.  Writing  indeed  is 
much  better.  To  go  without  having  first  written  appears 
foolish  to  me  now. 

What  I  must  do  is  to  try  to  make  money  enough  to  buy 

400 


CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

a  farm  for  me  and  my  brother.    To  travel  would  be  wast- 
ing money. 

But  first  I  must  have  this  Mr.  Mauresse's  job  settled. 
The  last  payment  will  be  due  in  thirty-five  days.  And 
meanwhile  I  must  live.  I  must  go  after  my  old  custom- 
ers and  hunt  up  new  ones.  I  wish  I  had  another  job  like 
this  one  just  finished. 

So  little  money  to  make  so  much  confusion. 
October. 

Leaving  the   Stillborn  place  yesterday,   I   walked  out 
beyond  the  old  cemeteries  and  picked  up  a  job  for  to-day. 
A  terribly  dirty-looking  elderly  man  was  in  the  most  awk- 
ward manner  clipping  a  cypress  hedge  around  a  large, 
neglected   flower   yard,  at  the   side   of  an   old  weather- 
beaten,  frame  cottage,  and  I  stopped  to  watch  him. 
"Well,"  he  snarled,  "what  are  you  grinning  at  ?" 
"At  your  spoiling  that  hedge,"  T  replied. 
"None  of  your  business!" 
"That  is  just  what  it  is.    My  business !" 
"Your  business,  I  guess,  is  to  loaf  and  find  fault  with 
people's  work." 

"Work !"  I  cried.  "Do  you  call  that  work  ?  Here !  Let 
me  show  you  how  to  do  that." 

I  took  the  shears  from  his  hands  and  clipped  away  for  a 
short  time,  he  looking  on  with  the  snarl  on  his  face  which 
I  fancied  was  the  right  expression  of  his  inner  self. 

We  bandied  words  some  time  more,  till  T  asked  him  to 
-let  me  do  this  job  for  him,  and  he  engaged  me  finally  to 
come  to-day  and  do  his  garden  up  a  bit.  I  set  my  price 
according  to  my  opinion  of  him,  and  he  immediately 
commenced  to  beat  me  down.  I  suppose,  eventually,  he 
will  hardly  pay  me  more  than  half  the  amount  agreed  on. 
This  morning  I  went  out  to  the  place  quite  early.  It 
looked  as  if  it  might  rain  and  I  was  almost  hoping  it 
would,  so  as  to  give  me  the  chance  of  a  good  excuse  for 
dropping  this  job,  as  my  opinion  of  the  owner  grew  poor 

401 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  poorer.  His  name  is  Mellant,  he  is  rich  and  a — well, 
a  miser.  He  has  a  wife  and  a  son,  a  young  man,  or  what 
the  newspapers  here  call  a  boy,  of  twenty-one  years  of 
age;  and  mother  and  son  seem  to  be  united  to  a  sort  of 
offensive  and  defensive  alliance  against  the  old  man. 

The  son  received  me  when  I  arrived  and  let  me  into 
the  yard. 

"You  are  going  to,  now,  work  here,  are  you  not?"  he 
inquired.  'T  saw  you  talking  to  the  old  skinner,  now,  yes- 
terday. He  told  you  to  come,  now,  did  he,  and  what  now 
to  do?" 

''Yes,  he  told  me  all  about  it,"  I  said  as  I  took  the 
shears  out  of  the  shed  and  began  finishing  the  clipping  of 
the  hedge. 

''Well,"  he  grunted,  "you  better  look  out,  he  will  now, 
now,  never  pay  you  a  cent.  He  would  not  pay  a,  now,  rat 
if  he  hired  him." 

"What  good  would  that  do?" 

"What?" 

"A  rat,"  I  called  out,  "hiring  a  rat." 

"You  mind  !"  he  whined.  "Never  mind!  You  will  find 
out.  He  is  the  meanest,  now,  now,  skunk  that  ever  lived. 
Look  at  my  clothes !  He  never,  now,  gives  me  money 
enough  to  get  a  decent  suit  of  clothes." 

"Well,"  I  told  him,  "you  ought  to  be  able  to  earn 
enough  money  yourself  to  buy  your  own  clothes.  You  are 
big  enough.    Don't  you  do  any  work?" 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  should  I  work  for?  And 
my  mother  says  I  need  not  do  any  work  all  my  life.  He 
has  money  enough." 

And  he  did  not  do  a  stroke  to  assist  me.  He  would  not 
even  do  me  such  little  favors  as  putting  a  stake  in  the 
soft  ground,  or  holding  the  end  of  a  tape  line.  Idly 
standing  by  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  closely  kept 
near  me,  talking  to  me  all  the  time  in  his  dronish  way. 
growing  more  and  more  confidential,  explaining  how  his 

402 


CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

father  wanted  to  sell  this  place  and  had  a  customer,  and 
for  that  reason  had  engaged  me  to  put  it  in  a  little  better 
condition ;  telling  me  too  what  schemes  he  and  his  mother 
would  put  in  execution  to  get  money  out  of  the  old  man. 
Once  they  had  gone,  he  related,  to  consult  a  fortune  teller 
to  find  out  how  best  to  succeed  in  their  endeavors.  "And 
the  fortune  teller,"  he  proceeded,  "she  told  me,  that  I  was 
now^  wanting  and  waiting  for  my  father  to  die  so  I  should 
get  his  money.  Now,  how  could  the.  now,  w^oman  know 
that?    Was  it  not  wonderful  that  she  should  know  that?" 

The  forenoon  was  pretty  well  advanced  before  Mr. 
Mellant  appeared,  dressed  in  a  dirty  linen  dust  coat  reach- 
ing to  below  his  knees,  buttoned  up  close  to  his  throat,  and 
with  an  aged,  black  silk  stock  showing  above,  no  sign 
of  a  shirt  or  collar ;  shiny  black  pants  hung  on  his  legs, 
frayed  and  muddy  at  the  bottom  with  some  portions  of 
dirty  brown  socks  hanging  down  over  worn-out  rubber 
shoes.  A  battered  old  beaver  hat  with  a  mourning  band 
turned  brown  set  back  on  his  head,  everything  in  perfect 
keeping  with  his  unwashed,  unshaven  face,  the  greenish, 
half  decayed  fangs  of  his  mouth,  his  snarling  speech  and 
voice,  his  sneaking  walk  and  manner.  He  had  not  looked 
so  bad  the  evening  before  or  I  should  never  have  dared 
to  take  any  work  of  his.  Now  I  had  to  do  the  best  I 
could. 

First  I  asked  him  for  some  money  to  get  something  to 
eat,  it  being  lunch  time.  He  would  not  give  me  any. 
Then  I  told  him  outright  that  I  had  no  belief  in  his  want- 
ing to  pay  me  at  all  and  should  not  go  on  with  the  job 
unless  he  paid  me  down  for  what  T  had  already  done  and 
the  rest  evenly  divided  at  the  end  of  each  hour. 

It  must  have  been  comical  enough  to  look  at  us.  how  we 
disputed.  He  kept  circling  round  me  in  the  most  absurd 
manner,  falling  back  as  I  would  advance,  and  the  reverse ; 
as  though  he  was  keeping  me  at  bay,  talking  all  the  time 
the  most  ridiculous  stuff,  denying  my  claim,  defying  and 

403 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

abusing  me,  swearing  at  me,  threatening  me,  sometimes 
raising  his  voice  to  such  a  pitch  as  to  attract  the  attention 
of  passing  people. 

As  I  stepped  toward  the  water  faucet  to  wash  my  hands, 
preparatory  to  leaving  the  job,  he  yelled:  "Don't  you 
dare  to  touch  that  faucet!  Don't  you  dare  to  take  my 
water!  Stealing!  A  thief!  You  are  a  thief,  sir?  I  shall 
have  you  arrested.    Police!    Stop  thief!    Police!" 

Except  for  the  fun  in  it  for  me,  I  don't  think  I  should 
have  held  out  a  minute.  That  and  the  lesson  in  bargain- 
ings which  I  received  some  weeks  ago  from  the  beautiful 
Mrs.  Mauresse  at  San  Jose.  And,  to  be  sure,  the  knowl- 
edge I  had  of  his  wanting  to  sell  and  having  a  customer, 
gave  me  the  advantage.  He  fought  me  all  he  could,  let 
me  lay  down  the  tools,  put  on  my  coat,  go  out  of  the  gate, 
and  then  he  came  with  the  money  and  paid  me,  first  the 
half  of  the  price  agreed  on  and  then  the  hourly  payments, 
all  but  for  the  last  hour.  I  had  expected  that  he  would 
beat  me  out  of  that. 

As  I  went  away,  I  met  the  young  fellow  round  the  next 
corner.  I  had  seen  him  in  the  rear  street,  watching,  nearly 
all  the  time.  He  came  slouching  up  to  me,  saying:  "Well, 
what  did  I  tell  you  ?  You,  nows  ought  to  give  me  some- 
thing. If  I  had  not  posted  you,  you  would  not  have  got 
a  cent.    You  ought  to,  now,  divide." 

"It  is  a  mighty  small  matter  to  pay  a  commission,"  I 
told  him,  "on  such  a  job  as  this.  But  you  are  right.  You 
warned  me  and  told  me  about  the  sale,  and  should  be 
rewarded.  How  does  it  strike  you,  if  I  give  you  an  order 
on  your  father  for  the  balance  he  still  owes  me,  as  you 
must  know  ?" 

"Now,  now !''  he  wailed,  "that  is  not  fair.  You  ought  to 
give  me  a  nickel  anyhow." 

"Here  is  a  dime,  will  that  do?"  I  asked. 

He  made  no  answer,  but  took  the  money.  And  it  was 
most  disagreeable  to  me  to  see  how  the  touch  of  the  coin 

404 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

seemed  to  sweep  and  spread  all  through  his  ungainly 
cadaver. 

Keep  me  from  all  such !     Let  it  be  a  lesson, 

November. 

The  last  payment,  the  thirty-five  days  payment  on  my 
contract  fell  due  to-day  and  was  paid.  Mr.  De  Lang  as 
bondsman,  and  at  my  request,  went  with  me  first  to  Mr. 
^lauresse's  place  of  business  and  afterwards  to  all  the 
sub-contractors  and  material  men  of  the  job,  to  disburse 
the  money.  Then  his  bond  was  cancelled.  I  had  signed 
the  receipt  for  the  amount  of  balance  of  contract  price 
the  first  thing. 

When  we  were  through  with  all  this,  I  conferred  with 
Mr.  De  Lang  about  the  placing  of  my  money.  He  thought 
it  would  suit  my  purposes  best  to  put  it  in  one  of  our 
large  savings  banks,  where  it  would  pay  a  small  interest 
as  long  as  it  remained  there,  and  could  be  drawn  out,  if 
I  wanted  it.     And  so  I  have  now  placed  it. 

To  swell  the  amount  all  I  could  I  scraped  together  all 
I  had  to  scrape.  It  was  foolish,  I  fear,  for  it  has  actually 
left  me  absolutely  without  any  money  but  three  dimes. 
But  I  have  a  new  meal  ticket  for  twenty-four  meals,  and 
my  room  rent  is  paid  for  the  whole  of  this  month.  I  shall 
have  to  try  hard  now  to  get  some  new  work.  But  that 
is  just  what  I  wanted.  Xot  to  turn  idle !  Beside,  I  liked 
to  round  off  the  sum  of  money.  I  cannot  deny  it.  1 
liked  it.     My  first  money  ! 

November. 

Yesterday  I  forced  myself  to  work  at  Mr.  Stillborn's.  I 
had  to.  He  had  returned  from  the  country.  I  received 
all  the  money  due  me.  I  told  him  I  did  not  know  if  T 
could  do  his  work  any  more.  I  would  send  him  a  good 
man,  if  he  wanted  me  to  do  that. 

What  do  I  know  ? 

Sunday  I  loitered  about  all  day,  like  my  father,  I  sup- 
pose, used  to  do. 

405 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Saturday  it  was.     Three  days  gone. 

I  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Stillborn's  Saturday  and  worked 
there  all  day  till  late  in  the  afternoon.  I  had  told  her 
that  I  should  want  another  day  to  do  all  she  wanted  me 
to  do,  and  was  ready  for  another  struggle  with  her 
about  payment  of  my  wages,  or  some  part  of  them,  which 
I  should  very  much  have  liked  to  have,  since  it  annoyed 
rne  to  have  but  those  few  dimes  in  my  pocket.  But,  being 
sure  of  the  usual  refusal,  I  concluded  not  to  say  anything 
to  her  about  it,  and  wait  till  Mr.  Stillborn  was  come 
home,  which  might  be  as  soon  as  next  day. 

I  was  closing  the  empty  barn,  pushing  to  the  big  roll- 
ing* door  to  the  side  street  before  putting  on  my  coat  to 
go  away,  when  I  noticed  in  the  next  block  up  the  hill  a 
number  of  boys.  There  were  always  boys  playing  in  that 
or  the  adjoining  block,  which  are  without  improvements 
and  ungraded,  only  fenced  in  with  rough  board-rail  fences 
and  with  some  narrow  sidewalks  laid  along  the  streets, 
that  are  cut  down  to  the  official  city  grade,  leaving  irregu- 
lar bluffs  standing. 

But  these  boys  seemed  to  be  up  to  something  particu- 
lar ;  and  immediately  I  saw  two  boys  put  forward  to  fight. 
They  were  both  small  boys,  and  one  was  again  quite  a 
bit  smaller  than  the  other,  not  more  than  six,  seven  years 
old  possibly.  Yet,  standing  up  spunkily,  taking  and  giving- 
his  blows,  not  for  the  first  time,  surely,  or  rather  perhap* 
like  one  that  has  been  taught  how  to  put  up  and  use  his 
hands.  He  was  visibly  overmatched  by  the  other,  larger 
and  fully  one  or  two  years  older  boy,  who  repeatedly 
struck  him  down. 

It  was  pretty  far  for  me  to  run  up  to  and  interfere,  but 
I  felt  like  doing  it  very  much.  It  was  too  unfair  a  fight. 
I  could  never  stand  letting  that  go  on.  I  thought  of  my 
boyhood's  battles.  The  little  fellow  was  evidently  a 
stranger  among  the  rest.  He  was  much  better  dressed. 
He  showed  such  pluck.     No  sooner  was  he  down  than  he 

406 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

was  up  again,  and  getting  in  his  blows,  too,  only  that  his 
blows  were  too  light  to  tell  against  the  bigger  boy.  1 
could  stand  it  no  longer ;  the  smaller  boy  was  down  again 
and  the  whole  crowd  of  spalpeens  cheered  and  seemed  in- 
clined to  jump  on  him.  I  had  started  to  run  up  the 
street,  when  I  saw  the  boys  stop,  scatter  and  run,  climbing 
the  fences,  jump  and  disappear  as  a  man  came  looming 
up  over  the  brow  of  the  farther  bluff. 

He  came  up  to  the  little  fellow,  who  alone  had  re- 
mained behind.  I  thought  he  must  know  the  boy.  They 
spoke  to  each  other.  The  boy  was  wiping  the  blood  off 
his  face  with  his  handkerchief.  They  shook  hands.  The 
boy  was  showing  the  man  something.  He  was  motion- 
ing with  his  hands,  as  if  telling  him  how  he  had  come 
there.  After  a  little  more  conversation,  they  moved  to  the 
edge  of  the  lot,  climbed  through  the  fence,  and  came  down 
my  way.  And  then,  as  soon  as  they  had  come  a  little 
nearer,  and  as  I  was  turning  back  into  the  barn  and  actu- 
ally pulling  the  door  to,  I  recognized  the  man.  It  was 
Opium  Loo. 

How  came  he  to  interfere  ?  He  might  be  here  cer- 
tainly, he  might  be  anywhere,  idling  about.  But  how  came 
he  to  interfere?  Could  he  know  the  boy,  who  was,  any- 
body could  tell,  gentlefolk's  child?  Only  by  chance  could 
he  have  come  upon  that  crowd  of  boys.  They  saw-  him 
and  ran.  They  need  not  have  run  for  him.  They  could 
have  driven  him  off  again.  But  they  ran,  and  that  way 
he  got  onto  the  little  fellow.  And  now  I  must  get  the 
child  away  from  him. 

I  watched  them  from  the  barn.  I  did  not  show  my- 
self. They  were  making  for  the  car  line  on  the  second 
street  north  of  us.  I  was  wondering  why  Opium  Loo  had 
not  gone  in  the  southern  direction,  up  hill,  where  there 
was  a  car  line  three  blocks  nearer ;  but  I  came  to  reflect 
that  the  more  northern  car  line  must  take  him  closer 
to  his  proper  haunts,  which  were  sure  to  be  somewhere 

407 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

near  the  part  of  town  known  as  Barbary  Coast,  where 
undoubtedly  he  was  going  to  take  the  boy,  or  to  the  as 
nearby  Chinatown,  where  he  might  be  wanting  to  sell 
him  to  some  Chinaman. 

He  held  him  fast  by  the  hand. 

A  nice  looking,  strong  built,  little  fellow  he  was,  dressed 
in  a  short,  grayish  suit  of  waist  and  knee  breeches.  The 
clothes  showed  the  tousling  he  had  gone  through,  and  on 
his  face  was  blood. 

He  looked  to  me  like  my  brother. 

They  were  going  down  the  narrow  sidewalk  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  I  hardly  had  any  thought  how  I 
should  do  it,  only  that  I  must  get  the  child  out  of  the 
hands  of  that  vile  abomination.    It  had  to  be  done. 

When  they  were  right  abreast  the  barn  door,  I  pushed 
it  back  and  stepped  into  the  opening,  and  as  if  I  knew  the 
boy  and  but  that  moment  caught  sight  of  him  I  called 
out  to  him:  ''Hallo,  Bobbie!  Why,  what  brings  you  over 
this  way  ?"  And  going  out  into  the  street  to  cross  over,  I 
shouted  to  the  man,  "Where  are  you  going  with  that 
boy?  Where  are  you  taking  that  boy?"  continuing 
smartly  to  walk  up  to  them. 

1  did  not  care  now  if  that  fellow  knew  me  or  recog- 
nized me.  I  would  fight  him  if  he  showed  fight,  run  him 
down  if  he  ran  away  with  the  child,  get  the  boy  out  of 
his  hands  by  any  means  whatever,  when  not  to  my  sur- 
prise, but  certainly  to  my  relief,  he  let  go  the  boy's  hand, 
turned  and  fled  up  the  street. 

The  boy  stood  gazing  after  him,  then  at  me,  puzzled 
what  this  meant,  I  could  see,  but  not  at  all  scared  nor 
making  any  move  to  follow  the  man,  or  run  off  himself. 
Yet  so  anxious  was  I  about  it  that  I  laid  my  hand  on 
his  arm  and  drew  him  across  the  street  into  the  barn, 
saying  to  him  many  times  over :  ''Don't  go  with  that 
man,  boy!  He  is  a  bad  man.  You  must  not  go  with 
him !" 

408 


CHRONICLES  OF  ^MANUEL  ALAN  US 

1  stepped  back  onto  the  sidewalk  a  moment  to  assure 
myself  of  Opium  Loo's  complete  flight  and  saw  him  at 
the  upper  car  line,  where  a  car  was  approaching,  which 
he  boarded  as  it  went  by  oaits  w^ay  down  town. 

'^Did  he  take  any  money  away  from  you?"  1  asked  the 
boy  as  I  shut  the  door. 

''He  did  not  take  it  away  from  me,  sir,"  he  answered. 
"He  asked  me  if  I  had  some  money,  and  I  gave  him  a 
dollar  I  had." 

The  agitation  of  the  fight  was  yet  on  him,  and  perhaps 
of  some  experiences  that  had  gone  before,  and  his  voice 
had  something  that  thrilled  me. 

"But  he  took  it  and  kept  it,"  1  said,  as  i  led  him  into 
the  light  of  the  inner  yard  to  examine  his  hurts.  "And 
that,"  I  continued,  ''accounts  for  his  running  away.  1 
knew  it.  He  was  afraid  he  would  have  to  hand  back 
the  money.  And  so  he  would.  Well,  he  will  keep  away 
from  this  neighborhood  for  a  good  while,  that  is  one 
satisfaction.  And  his  coming  made  the  boys  run  away. 
That  was  worth  a  dollar,  was  it  not?  Vou  had  a  hard 
time  of  it.    1  was  just  coming  to  help  you.     1  saw  you." 

As  1  was  looking  him  over,  1  kept  on  talking  to  him 
to  calm  him  down  more,  telling  him  that  he  was  not 
hurt  very  much,  that  his  one  eye  would  most  likely  swell 
a  little  more  and  turn  black,  but  that  in  a  week's  time  he 
would  hardly  have  any  marks  of  his  fight  left:  all  but 
his  hand,  that  had  been  skinned  on  the  knuckles. 
"What  were  you  fighting  about?"  I  questioned  him. 
*T  really  don't  know.  sir.  The  boys  said  we  must  fight. 
The  other  boy  struck  me.  I  had  not  thought  he  would,  or 
1  should  have  guarded  myself.    They  did  not  call  time." 

Such  a  modest,  old-fashioned,  artless  way  he  had  of 
talking,  and  so  gentle  as  to  resemble  little  Harry  to  me 
more  and  more.  He  had  been  struck  in  the  mouth,  but 
his  teeth  were  unhurt,  his  first  teeth  yet.  His  underlip 
was  cut  and  his  little  nose  was  set  in  drying  blood. 

409 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"That  was  from  the  first  blow,  that  was  foul,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

"You  know  something  of  boxing,"  I  told  him. 
"A  little,  sir.     We  had  lessons  in  Oakland  with  Mr. 
Carrol.    But  no  more  now.    But  papa  taught  us  before." 
Seeing  he  moved  a  little  lame,  I  found  on  looking  far- 
ther  for  hurts,  that  his  shins  were  very  much  barked, 
especially  on  the  left  leg. 

"That  boy  must  have  kicked  you,"  I  remarked,  "or  did 
you  fall?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.    I  did  not  feel  it  till  now." 

I  took  him  into  the  wash  room  of  the  barn  and  washed 
the  blood  off  his  face  and  hands  and  other  places,  and 
gave  him  some  water  to  rinse  his  mouth,  while  I  was 
gone  to  where  my  coat  was  hanging  to  fetch  some  court 
plaster  I  always  carry,  to  put  it  on  his  knuckles  and  raw 
shins. 

"Now,"  I  said,  setting  me  down  in  a  garden  chair, 
"stand  between  my  knees,  this  way  with  your  back  to 
me,  till  I  hold  this  wet  towel  to  your  eyes.  When  that 
towel  feels  no  longer  cold,  tell  me  and  I  will  change  it. 
Do  you  feel  much  hurt?" 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not  feel  hurt  much,  only  a  little  funny 
in  the  head,  and  a  little  stiff.  "I  thought  he  was  goinf 
to  cry,  but  if  he  was,  he  overcame  it,  and  I,  to  help  him, 
went  on  talking  to  him  as  unconcernedly  as  possible. 

"You  don't  know  that  man  at  all,  do  you  ?"  I  asked 

"No,  sir." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  he  just  came  by.  He  said  he  had  seen  us  i« 
Oakland  when  I  told  him  we  had  been  living  there." 

"Where  were  you  going  with  him  ?" 

"He  said  he  would  take  me  home." 

"Home  ?     How  ?" 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,"  faltered  the  little  fellow,  "I  have  lost 
myself.    I  have  lost  my  way." 

410 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

-Lost  your  way?  Why,  where  do  you  Uve?" 
I  felt  him  tremble.  He  was  struggling  with  himself. 
All  but  on  the  point  of  breaking  down,  with  an  effort 
that  seemed  almost  too  much  for  such  a  little  man  he 
mastered  himself,  and,  turning  to  me  with  the  faintest^ 
miserable  littk  ^shadow  of  a  smile,  said:     I  dont  know 

where  we  live. 

-You  mean,  you  don't  know  the  name  of  the  street  you 
TiTe  in,  nor  the  number  of  your  house?" 
.     "No,  sir,  I  don't  know." 

''What  a  big  boy  like  you  don't  know  the  name  of  his 
street?  Can't  you  read?"  I  cried  a  little  roughly,  on  pur- 
pose to  help  him  sustain  himself.  .  ^     ,    ,  t 

"Yes  sir,  I  know  it  is  very  stupid,  but  I  dont  know^  i 
must  have  heard  the  name  of  the  street,  too.  And  1 
think  I  saw  the  number  of  the  house  on  the  glass  over 
the  door,  yesterday  when  we  moved  over  from  Oakland, 
I  think  there  was  a  four  in  it.  But  that  would  do  no 
rood  "  he  added  in  his  old-fashioned,  gentlemanly  man- 
ner '  It  might  have  amused,  if  it  had  not  been  so  moving, 
;tnd  made  me  smile,  only  one  had  to  think  of  the  distress 
of  the  heavy  little  heart. 

"And  have  you  no  idea  at  all  which  way  you  came 
here,  in  which  direction  your  house  is  located  or  your 
street >  Could  you  see  the  bay  from  your  house?  Or  the 
l>ark?'   You  know  the  park?    You  know  what  a  park  is, 

'^''" Ye^'lir !     No,  sir  !     Yes,  sir  1     I  don't  know  that  we 
could  see  any  park  or  the  bay.    There  was  a  big  hill  witk 

some  houses."  ^.  ,  ,  ,. 

Although  he  spoke  very  pure  English,  and  sounding  so 
pretty  I  thought  I  detected  a  foreign  intonation  in  his 
speech  that  made  me  ask  him  if  he  was  born  here. 

"No  sir  we  are  Americans,  but  we  were  born  m  Hol- 
land," he  replied,  making  the  answer  as  one  he  had  often 

to  give. 

411 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

1  turned  back  to  the  main  question,  asking  him  to  tell 
me  how  he  had  come  to  lose  his  way,  and  how  he  had 
come  here,  thinking  he  might,  in  recounting  this,  adven- 
titiously mention  something  which  could  give  me  some 
idea  in  what  part  of  the  town  his  house  was.  But  I  ob- 
tained no  such  clue.  It  was  such  a  plain  story  that  it 
would  fit  almost  any  locality  in  any  town,  almost  any 
child,  almost  any  losing  of  the  way.  He  had  seen  some 
boys  with  a  little  dog  near  his  house  and  had  gone  to  see 
what  they  were  doing.  They  had  wanted  to  sell  the  dog, 
when  the  man  had  come  who  owned  the  little  dog  and 
had  set  a  big  dog  to  chase  them.  They  had  all  run  with 
the  big  dog  after  them,  and  when  they  had  stopped  run- 
ning he  had  not  been  able  to  see  his  house.  One  boy  had 
said  he  knew  where  his  house  was  and  had  taken  him  a 
long  way  to  the  house,  but  it  had  not  been  his  house. 
Then  a  drunken  man  had  come  upon  them  and  had  run 
after  them.  And  then  he  had  been  all  alone.  He  had 
tried  to  get  up  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  that  looked  like  the 
hill  above  his  house,  but  every  street  had  always  looked 
like  every  other,  till  at  last  there  had  been  no  more  streets 
and  no  more  houses.  And  then  he  had  come  upon  those 
boys  I  had  seen  him  with.  They  had  said  he  must  fight 
one  of  them.  They  had  taken  hold  of  him  and  run  him 
a  long  way  over  to  the  empty  blocks.  And  the  boy  had 
struck  him.    And  he  had  had  to  fight. 

He  made  a  short  pause,  indicating  that  he  had  finished 
his  account  to  conscientiously  answer  my  question.  And 
as  if  he  felt  how  very  little  all  he  had  told  could  serve  to 
give  me  a  point  as  to  the  locality  of  his  house,  in  correc- 
tion of  his  first  statement  that  he  did  not  know  the  direc- 
tion in  which  he  had  come,  he  added,  motioning  with  his 
hand  to  the  hill  above  us,  'T  think  our  house  is  over  that 
way,"  turning  round  to  look  me  in  the  eye,  beseechingly : 
could  not  that  give  me  the  idea  I  wanted,  to  find  the 
house. 

412 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

"Oh,  we  will  find  the  house  all  right,"  T  exclaimed 
cheerfully.  'That  is  nothing,  if  you  only  know  your 
name.    You  know  your  name,  don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  My  name  is  Mahon  Mark  Tem  Oldock." 
I  had  just  turned  him  round  again  to  stand  as  before 
between  my  knees  with  his  back  to  me  for  another  appli- 
cation of  the  cold,  wet  towel  to  his  eyes.  I  moved  back 
a  little  the  chair  I  was  sitting  on.  I  was  not  touching  him. 
I  moved  still  further  back.  I  got  up  and  went  into  the 
adjoining  room.  I  came  back.  I  was  trying  to  say 
something.  I  had  no  power  over  my  voice.  I  had  to  go 
once  more  out  of  the  room  to  catch  me  by  the  throat 
and  choke  back  the  feeling,  the  passion  of  joy,  the  bliss, 
the  unspeakable  happiness  that  had  come  to  me. 

T  came  to  sit  behind  him,  giving  him,  not  to  touch  him, 
the  wet,  folded  towel  to  hold  to  his  eyes  himself.  I 
started  to  speak  several  times  before  I  succeeded  to 
steady  my  voice  enough,  forcing  myself  to  it,  speaking 
very  slow  to  keep  my  voice  from  trembling  and  sounding 
too  unnatural. 

"I  know  a  house,"  I  said,  "down  town,  a  big  house  of 
many  rooms,  that  is  called  the  Tem  Oldock  Block.    Does 
that  belong  to  your  father  ?" 
"I  don't  know,  sir." 

"I  have  gone  by  that  building  several  times,  though  not 
lately,"  I  went  on,  gaining  a  little  more  self-control,  finger- 
ing some  buttons  of  his  waist,  to  have  some  excuse  for 
touching  him,  ''I  have  been  inside  the  house  and  have 
also  seen  the  janitor,  an  old  colored  man.  At  the  entrance 
of  that  building  is  a  sign  with  the  names  on  it  of  John 
Tem  Oldock  and  Son.  Is  that  your  papa's  name?" 
'T  think  that  is  grandpa's  name,  sir." 
"There!  You  see!  That  must  be  your  grandpa's  busi- 
ness place.  Now  just  as  soon  as  I  am  fixed  up  here,  in 
five  minutes,  we  will  go  down  to  that  building  and  the 
old  janitor  will  tell  us  the  name  and   number  of  your 

.     413 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

street.  Or  there  will  be  other  persons  to  do  it.  And  then 
I  will  take  you  right  home.  Keep  bathing  your  face  over 
this  washstand.  I  shall  be  away  no  more  than  five 
minutes." 

I  wanted  to  try  to  get  some  money  from  Mrs.  Stillborn. 
And  how  I  repented  now  of  my  foolish  putting  away  of 
all  my  money!  If  I  could  not  induce  Mrs.  Stillborn  to 
pay  some  of  the  money  down,  I  had,  of  course,  enough 
for  car  fare;  and  that  was  really  all  I  needed.  Only  in 
case  of  some  accident,  what  then?  But  if  it  came  to  the 
worst,  I  could  take  little  Mahon  to  my  place  to  stay  over 
night.  Mrs.  Carpenter  would  be  glad  to  care  for  him. 
But  it  would  be  cruel  to  keep  the  little  boy  from  home 
one  moment  longer  than  absolutely  unavoidable. 

With  more  patience  and  management,  I  might  have 
got  some  money  from  Mrs.  Stillborn,  but  I  could  not 
take  the  time,  I  could  not  waste  one  minute.  While.  I 
was  talking  to  her,  there  was  constantly  in  me  the  shadow 
of  the  idea  that  little  Mahon,  left  alone  in  the  strange, 
darkening  place,  bewildered,  scared,  might  run  off,  which 
grew  into  a  wild  fear  and  drove  me  to  rush  back  to  the 
barn,  where  I  found  him  patiently  sitting  on  the  empty 
box  I  had  placed  for  him  before  the  washstand,  bathing 
his  eyes. 

A  little  expression  of  satisfaction  or  relief  to  see  me 
return  was  in  his  face.  I  must  appear  to  him  now,  not 
unlike  an  old  acquaintance,  I  thought. 

I  dried  his  face  to  pass  my  hand  over  it.  I  looked  at 
his  hurts  once  more,  and,  pretending  that  the  court  plaster 
did  not  altogether  stick,  moistened  it  with  my  tongue  that 
my  lips  might  touch  him. 

I  walked  away  with  him  down  the  street  to  the  car 
line.  He  limped  a  little.  I  could  but  just  keep  from  tak- 
ing him  up  to  carry  him.  But  if  I  once  had  him  in  my 
arms,  how  could  I  help  hugging  him  to  my  heart  ?  Then 
he  would  break  down,  and  I  would  break  down.     I  did 

414 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

not  even  dare  to  take  him  by  the  hand.     And  yet  some- 
times I  had  to  touch  him. 

In  the  street  cars  we  were  the  only  inside  passengers, 
the  time  of  evening  it  was  getting  to  be  when  the  intown 
travel  is  light.  He  sat  just  a  little  bit  away  from  me. 
A  little  shy  he  was,  or  no,  not  shy,  reserved,  or  feelmg, 
perhaps,  strange  and  wondering  at  my  familiarity  of 
manner.  For  my  manner  must  have  appeared  peculiar, 
with  all  the  emotions  that  spun  my  heart.  And  I  did  not 
think  of  this.  I  think  of  it  now.  I  did  not  then.  I 
thought  he  was  naturally  shy,  and  that  made  him  so 
much  more  like  little  Harry  to  me. 

I  noticed  that  he  was  tired.  Before  he  had  appeared 
more  stunned,  dizzy  from  the  fight.  Now  he  showed 
mere  exhaustion.  Whenever  I  gave  him  an  assurmg 
smile  he  would  try  to  smile  back  to  acknowledge  my  en- 
deavors and  make  at  least  a  show  of  being  encouraged, 
but  it  was  only  a  heavy-hearted,  short-lived  little  smile, 
and  the  tears  were  very  near  him  all  the  time.  Once  I 
began  to  speak  of  his  home  and  only  just  in  time  recol- 
lected myself.  I  kept  on  talking  and  making  him  talk, 
that  there  might  be  some  outward  restraint  helping  him 
to  hold  his  own.  I  was  convinced  that  he  felt  sure  I  was 
a  friend,  but  what  other  anxiety,  uncertainty,  doubt,  con- 
fusion and  more  yet  there  must  have  been  in  him ! 

The  grandfather  being  presumably  the  safest  person  of 
the  family  to  mention,  I  asked  some  questions  about  him, 
and  so  much  I  came  to  understand  that,  coming  from 
Europe  to  Boston,  they  had  stayed  there  some  time  with 
Mr.  Tem  Oldock  and  then  come  on  here  to  Oakland  some 
weeks  ago,  where  they  had  lived  at  a  private  hotel,  run 
by  a  Mrs.  Smith,  whence  they  had  moved  yesterday  to 
the  city.  But  that  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  had  gone  away  to 
Mexico  a  week  ago  and  was  soon  coming  back.  As  the 
little  fellow  was  constantly  using  the  plural,  saying  we. 

415 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

us,  our,  I  concluded  that  he  had  some  brothers  and  sis- 
ters.   Naturally  I  did  not  inquire  about  it. 

They  must  have  arrived  here  about  the  time  I  was 
employing  my  energies  to  scrape  together  what  money  I 
could. 

It  was  beginning  to  get  dark.  The  windows  were  light- 
ing up  here  and  there.  When  we  gained  the  top  of  Rus- 
sian Hill  we  saw  the  street  lamps  stretch  away  in  long 
lines  through  the  city.  My  little  restaurant  round  the 
corner  bravely  shone  with  many  lights.  Little  Mahon 
looked  at  it,  and  that  suggested  to  me  that  he  might  be 
hungry.  And  then  by  dint  of  much  careful  questioning 
I  learned  that  it  had  been  rather  early,  but  shortly  after 
breakfast  when  he  had  come  away  from  his  house. 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  I  cried.  "You  must  be  very 
hungry,  knocking  about  all  day.  We  will  get  out  down- 
town and  I  know  a  place  where  you  can  get  a  glass  of 
real  good  milk.     Do  you  drink  milk?" 

"Yes,  sir,  we  have  milk  with  a  little  hot  water  for  sup- 
per. And  bread.  But  I  am  not  hungry,  I  think;  onlv  a 
little  thirsty." 

When  we  reached  Montgomery  street,  I  took  him  to  a 
place  where  they  keep  good  milk  and  where  he  got  a  big 
glassful  with  a  little  boiling  water  and  some  fresh  French 
bread.  And  what  a  pleasure  it  gave  me  to  see  him  eat 
and  drink!  Mahon's  son!  And  he  so  much  like  little 
Harry  again  in  his  eating,  so  deliberate  with  such  nicety. 
Only,  his  eating  amounted  to  nothing.  I  saw  he  could 
eat  nothing  and  forbore  to  press  him,  but  told  him  not 
to  eat  anything  if  he  did  not  feel  like  it.  And  but  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  milk  could  he  swallow.  Then  we  went 
away,  and  I  had  not  but  a  single  dime  left. 

it  was  no  darker  than  it  had  been  before,  but  the  dark- 
ness then,  coming  on  gradually,  had  not  seemed  so  dark, 
and  there  had  been  more  street  life,  and  stepping  out  of 
the  glaringly  lit-up  eating-house  into  the  almost  deserted, 

416 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

nightly  street,  with  the  tops  of  the  tall  business  houses  lost 
in  dusk  against  the  shadowy  sky,  and  few  lights  shining 
from  windows,  the  boy  held  back.  It  was  only  a  mo- 
mentary hesitating.  If  I  had  not  been  holding  him  by  the 
hand  I  should  not  have  perceived  it  at  all. 

I  could  not  help  myself,  I  took  him  up  in  my  arms.  He 
was  limping  more,  too.  I  was  carrying  him  sitting  on  my 
left  arm  in  front  of  me,  my  right  arm  across  his  back, 
his  face  to  mine,  his  arms  round  my  neck.  His  heart 
beating  against  mine.  The  warmth  of  his  young  body 
iowing  through  mine.  If  I  turned  my  head  down  a  little 
my  cheek  would  touch  his. 

Long  ago,  another  lif«!  I  had  so  carried  my  little 
brother  through  these  streets;  my  father's  house  looking 
down  at  us. 

We  had  come  where  we  must  see  the  Tern  Oldock 
Block,  and  I  was  ready  to  call  out  to  the  boy  to  look  at 
it,  for  there  it  was,  when  I  saw  that  something  was  the 
matter  with  it.  It  must  be  undergoing  some  repairs  or 
alterations.  Great  heaps  of  building  material  were  piled 
up  in  front  of  it,  and  pretty  soon  I  could  see  in  the  light 
falling  on  it  from  somewhere  beyond  the  next  corner 
a  large  sign  reading  that  the  Tem  Oldock  Block  was  being 
enlarged,  rebuilt,  renovated,  improved,  to  be  finished 
some  time  next  year. 

I  walked  on  without  speaking  to  little  Mahon.  I  was 
expecting  to  see  some  signboard,  or  notice  on  the  close- 
board  fence  around  the  property,  stating  where  the  Tem 
Oldock  Company  had  moved  their  office  to,  but  before 
I  had  come  near  enough  to  hunt  for  such  a  notice  a  man 
with  a  bright  lantern  came  moving  from  out  the  shadow 
of  the  fence  between  the  building  and  a  mountain  of 
rough  mortar,  who  was  unmistakably  the  watchman  of 
the  property,  and  whom  I  hailed  and  asked  what  I  wanted 
to  know.  First  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  where  Mr.  Tem 
Oldock  lived.     But  he  knew  nothing  of  that.     The  Tem 

417 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Oldock  Company  had  moved  their  offices  to  the  Jones 
Block,  he  informed  me  with  a  good  deal  of  bawling,  ancj 
told  me  the  location  of  that  building  and  the  shortest 
route  to  get  there,  the  little  boy  listening  to  the  con- 
versation. 

''We  shall  fetch  it  now,"  I  told  him.  *'One  more  tack! 
Do  you  know  what  a  tack  it?  No?  You  don't?  Oh, 
you  bad  boy!" 

1  felt  like  making  fun,  dancing  with  jollity.  Nothing 
but  consideration,  compassion  for  little  Mahon's  how 
different  feelings  could  seemingly  keep  me  from  swinging 
him  round  in  my  arms,  right  and  left.  I  sung  his  name 
to  him  a  dozen  times  and  with  variations. 

Like  what  chaos  must  all  this  have  presented  itself 
to  him !  A  rough,  bawling  voice  of  an  invisible  man 
with  a  lantern  ;  all  about  unrecognizable  masses  of  houses  ; 
interminable  streets ;  sometimes  a  solitary  person,  sud- 
denly advancing  out  of  the  gloom,  passing  by  and  vanish- 
ing again  in  it ;  strange  lights  and  noises  in  the  distance, 
all  without  ending,  dying  away  in  nightly  blackness  ;  only 
above,  a  little  lighter  the  sky  with  its  dim  stars ! 

He  was  so  still,  I  thought  for  a  moment  he  was  falling 
asleep.  Then  1  thought  he  was  crying,  silently.  But  he 
was  only  quiet. 

"Hold  on  with  your  hand  to  my  coat  collar,  then  I 
can  carry  you  better,"  T  urged  him,  and  when  he  hesi- 
tated I  took  it  and  put  it  on  the  collar,  on  my  neck.  I 
bent  over  him.  He  turned  his  face  more  to  mine,  and 
a  little  wonderingjy  he  asked  half-loud: 

"Do  you  know  us?" 

"Why,"  I  said,  "  your  name  is  Mahon  Mark  Tem  Ol- 
dock, you  were  born  in  Holland,  you  came  to  Boston 
where  your  grandpa  was  living,  and  from  there  you  all 
came  here  where  you  lived  in  Oakland  till  yesterday 
when  you  moved  to  town.  And  to-day  you  started  for 
Mexico  to  fetch  back  your  grandpa,  but  lost  your  way 

418 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

and  I  caught  you  and  am  taking  you  home.  Now,  don't 
I  know  you  ?" 

He  drew  himself  a  very  little  closer  to  me,  and  it  was 
as  though  he  would  say  that  he  understood  my  fun,  only 
he  could  not  enter  more  into  it  just  then. 

Partly  to  give  reason  to  my  behavior,  partly  to  divert 
his  thoughts.  I  began  again,  and  speaking  lightly:  "I  had 
a  little  brother  once  like  you,  I  used  to  carry  him  like 
this  now.  and  on  evenings  like  this,  home  to  the  house 
we  used  to  live  in ;  over  that  way. 

He  turned  his  face  more  to  me,  and  almost  as  if  feeling 
something  my  words  might  imply,  he  laid  his  head  down 
in   the   hollow^   of   mv    shoulder. 


We  passed  a  telephone  office  and  it  struck  me  that  there 
Mahon's  address  might  be  kiiown.  I  went  in  and  asked. 
A  young  girl  behind  the  counter  looked  in  a  book  and 
told  me  the  address  was  a  certain  number  in  Oakland. 
I  answered  that  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  had  yesterday  moved 
from  Oakland  and  was  living  in  the  city.  She  talked 
to  another  girl  behind  the  counter  and  reported  to  mc 
that  no  notice  of  any  change  had  been  received.  She 
added,  there  must  have  been  some  neglect. 

If  T  had  but  had  a  little  more  money,  I  reckon  I  could 
have   got   the    address    from    Oakland,    from    that    Mrs 
Smith,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  pay  out  my  last  dime,  and 
at  the  Jones   Block   it  certainly   must  be   known  where 
Mahon  lived. 

We  were  now  where  there  were  more  lights  and  the 
streets  livelier.  We  had  nearly  reached  the  big  Jones 
Block.  But  the  increasing  life  and  the  greater  glare  of 
lights  seemed  to  make  little  Mahon  more  uneasy  than 
the  darkness  had  done  before.  Or  I  fancied  it,  for  he 
held  on  to  my  hand   so  tightly  as  we  walked  into  the 

419 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

wide,  high  entrance  of  the  Jones  Block,  where  people 
were  coming  and  going  in  almost  as  great  a  hurry  as  in 
daytime,  if  not  in  as  large  numbers.  Inside  a  large  clock 
showed  the  time  to  be  seven  o'clock. 

I  pronounced  the  name  Tern  Oldock  to  one  of  the 
elevator  men  standing  by  his  cage. 

''Seventh  floor!"  he  ejaculated 

*'I  suppose  there  is  no  one  in  their  office  now,"  I  said. 

"No,  they  are  gone  long  ago.  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  never 
was  here  all  day." 

"Do  you  know  where  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  lives?"  I 
a.sked. 

''Yes,  he  lives  in  Oakland." 

"No,  he  moved  to  town  yesterday.  Don't  you  know 
what  his  address  is?" 

He  eyed  me  a  trifle  sharply  and  looked  two  or  three 
times  at  little  Mahon.  "Ben,"  he  shouted  to  an  older 
man,  wearing  the  star  of  a  police  officer  or  private  de- 
tective, standing  in  the  inner  court  of  the  building,  who 
at  his  call  came  sauntering  over  to  us  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  "liere  is  a  Mexican  boy  that  wants  to  know 
where  Tem  Oldock  lives ;  he  docs  not  live  in  Oakland  any 
more,  he  says." 

At  this  moment  three  or  four  gentlemen  came  walking 
up,  that  the  elevator  man  had  to  take  upstairs.  We  were 
crowded  to  one  side,  and  I  with  little  Mahon  followed 
Mr.  Ben  into  the  inner  court,  into  what  I  took  to  be  the 
business  office  of  the  building  where  by  some  glass  parti- 
tions were  some  tables  and  arm-chairs,  into  one  of  which 
I  lifted  little  Mahon,  Mr.  Ben  looking  on  indifferently, 
not  to  say  offensively.  I  thought  he  might  know  the  boy. 
might  have  seen  him  with  his  father.  But  such  evi- 
dently was  not  the  case.  He  regarded  him  with  dis- 
favor, which  I  did  not  understand,  though  in  truth  the 
hoy  looked  battered  and  shaggy  enough.  At  the  same 
time  as  Air.  Ben  seemed  to  be  a  man  in  authority,  head- 

420 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

janitor  perhaps,  I  felt  as  if  I  owed  him  some  explanation. 
And  anyhow,  if  I  wanted  to  find  out  something,  I  had 
to  ask.     So  I  spoke. 

"I  should  like  to  know  where  Mr.  Tem  Oldock  lives," 
I  commenced,  "I  mean  where  he  resides.  This  is  his 
son.  I  want  to  take  him  home.  They  used  to  live  in 
Oakland.  They  moved  over  to  town  yesterday,  and  the 
boy  went  from  the  house  this  morning,  lost  his  way  and 
could  not  find  it  back.  I  happened  to  meet  him  in  the 
streets  and  brought  him  here,  thinking  you  would  know 
the  private  address  of  Mr.  Tem  Oldock,  he  being  your 
tenant  here  in  this  building  and  a  man  of  standing." 

**Well,  I  don't,"  he  replied  sourly.  "We  have  not  been 
notified  of  any  change  of  residence  by  Mr.  Tem  Oldock. 
He  has  not  been  here  all  day  to-day,  too ;  hunting  the  boy 
probably.  Somebody  in  their  office  is  to  blame.  I  guess 
I  know  him,  too.  It  is  no  fault  of  ours.  What  do  you 
want  to  come  round  here  for  making  a  fuss,  at  this  time 
of  the  night.  Why  don't  you  take  the  boy  over  to  Oak- 
land with  you  and  bring  him  back  to-morrow.  By  morn- 
ing the  newspapers  will  have  all  the  story."  He  was 
thinking,  judging  by  my  way  of  speaking,  that  I  lived  in 
Oakland,  had  known  the  family  there,  perhaps  been  work- 
ing for  them ;  just  what  I  wanted  him  to  think. 

*T  happen  to  have  not  money  enough  with  me  for  that," 
I  rejoined,  "but  even  if  I  had,  I  should  not  think  that 
would  do  at  all ;  it  would  be  cruelty  to  the  boy  and  to  his 
folks  perhaps  even  more." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  help  you  any.  Why 
don't  you  go  to  the  police  ?" 

At  the  very  first  the  thought  of  going  to  the  police 
had  presented  itself  to  me,  but  as  something  to  be  avoided 
by  all  possibilities.  Afterwards  the  idea  had  recurred  to 
me,  but  in  my  exaltation  of  feeling,  and  things  seeming 
to  work  smoothly,  I  had  put  it  away  from  me  without 
much  thought.     I  don't  know  that  I  fully  realized  what 

421 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

appl3nng  to  the  police  all  meant  to  me,  in  what  difficulties 
it  could  entangle  me,  how  it  might  disastrously  end  all  my 
hopes,  my  whole  life,  but  instinctively  as  soon  as  Mr. 
Ben  spoke,  I  was  ready  to  fight  the  idea,  when  I  had 
an  inspiration,  giving  up  for  the  time  all  my  own  wishes, 
plans,  claims,  throwing  all  away  to  immediately  and  se- 
curely bring  little  Mahon  to  his  home. 

"I  think  you  can  help  us  very  much,"  I  said,  "and  at 
once  help  us  out  of  all  our  trouble,  if  you  will  kindly 
telephone  now  to  the  Chief  of  Police.  He  will  know  Mr. 
Tern  Oldock's  address,  I  am  sure." 

"Now,  by  George!"  cried  Mr.  Ben,  "you  struck  it." 

He  went  to  the  telephone  at  once,  but  it  took  a  long 
time  before  he  could  get  the  connection. 

In  my  excitement  I  had  hardly  formed  any  plan  how 
finally  to  get  little  Mahon  delivered  home,  except  that 
I  meant  to  take  him  in  a  street  car  as  near  to  the  house 
as  possible,  then  to  go  on  foot  with  him  as  much  farther 
as  would  answer,  and  then  send  him  up  to  the  front  door 
by  himself,  remaining  myself  on  watch  at  a  sheltered 
point  of  observation.  Then  as  soon  as  the  door  was 
opened  and  the  boy  received  in  safety,  I  should  make  my 
escape.  I  believe  something  like  this  or  some  other  plan 
equally  as  foolish  was  in  my  mind.  I  had  not  wanted 
Mahon  to  see  me,  nor  any  of  the  family.  But  now  it 
was  hard  to  conceive  that  I  could  have  been  so  amaz- 
ingly stupid  not  to  think  that  little  Mahon  would  be 
searched  for  and  hunted  after,  all  over  town ;  as  if 
Mahon  and  the  family  would  be  sitting  round  the  tea 
table,  calmly  waiting  for  my  little  boy  to  come  his  way 
back  and  ring  the  doorbell.  I  understood  now  that  if 
I  did  not  want  to  be  seen  by  Mahon,  I  must  look  out.  I 
suppose  I  just  got  into  the  Jones  Block  in  time  to  escape 
being  taken  up  with  the  boy  on  the  streets,  too,  by  some 
policeman. 

"I  reckon  half  the  police  force  is  out  scouring  the  town 

422 


CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

for  you,  my  young  gentleman,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  to 
little  Mahon.  "And  somebody  punched  your  nose,"  he 
added.  He  was  quite  civil  spoken  now,  if  still  with  a  lit- 
tle air  of  protest  at  times. 

"The  lines  are  awfully  bad  to-night,  he  explained  to  me, 
everybody  is  talking.  But  you  struck  it,  by  Jove.  Just 
as  soon  as  we  get  the  connection  we  shall  know." 

Then  in  a  minute  he  was  speaking  and  in  a  few  more 
he  hung  up  the  instrument  and  turning  to  the  boy,  said : 
"Your  father  will  be  here  in  twenty  minutes.  He  had 
just  come  into  the  police  office  with  the  Chief." 

I  had  not  now  come  to  any  resolution  what  to  do  with 
myself,  only  that  I  did  not  want  Mahon  to  see  me,  and 
yet  I  wanted  to  stay  by  and  guard  little  Mahon  till  the 
last  minute.  I  stood  and  moved  about  in  the  inner  court 
and  the  main  entrance  and  came  back,  repeating  that  sev- 
eral times,  so  that  little  Mahon  should  think  nothing  of 
my  moving  about  this  way  and  not  think  that  I  was  go- 
ing to  leave  him.  I  went  outside  once  or  twice,  too,  and 
stood  on  the  sidewalk  for  a  few  seconds.  Fewer  people 
were  in  the  street,  yet  enough  for  me  to  lose  myself 
amongst.  I  walked  back  into  the  vestibule  and  ran  up 
the  one  flight  of  stairs.  There  were  two  flights  connected 
by  platforms  half  way  up,  with  corner  pillars  and  angle 
pillars,  posts  and  heavy  balustrades,  all  of  marble,  with 
heavy,  ornamental,  black  iron  screens.  From  behind  one 
of  the  big  angle  pillars,  when  I  stepped  close  up  to  the 
screen,  I  had  a  full  view  of  the  inner  court  and.  com- 
pletely hidden  myself,  looked  right  down  on  little  Mahon. 
He  was  sitting  just  as  I  had  placed  him.  Several  per- 
sons were  standing  'round  him,  janitors,  elevator  men 
and  whatever  they  might  be,  all  but  mobbing  him,  Mr. 
Ben  leading  the  attack,  questioning  and  explaining  to  the 
others  and  declaiming,  the  little  fellow  keeping  up  bravely, 
answering  in  his  simple  way  the  questions  he  could  an- 

423 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

swer,  but  often  glancing  around,  looking,  I  thought  for 
his  protector. 

I  ran  downstairs  and  entered  the  court  and  came  to 
him.  The  gentlemanly  mob  drifted  away  at  my  ap- 
proach, Mr.  Ben  saying  ostentatiously:  ''He  is  all  right." 
The  little  face  brightened. 

AVhen  we  were  alone,  I  took  his  hurt,  little  hand  and 
kissed  it. 

"Are  you  going  away  now  ?"  he  asked. 

'T  am  only  going  outside.  I  shall  not  go  away  till  I 
see  your  father  here.  He  will  be  here  now  immediately," 
I  told  him. 

And  when  1  came  outside,  I  saw  him. 

1  saw  him.  I  knew  him.  But  what  disappointment  to 
find  him  so  changed !  Where  was  the  large-limbed  giant 
of  my  childhood  days? 

I  did  not  see  the  first  meeting  between  the  little  man 
and  his  father.  When  I  came  to  my  lookout  place  on  the 
stair  platform  behind  the  angle  pillar,  little  Mahon  was 
hanging  on  his  father's  neck,  all  his  self-command  gone 
now,  his  face  pressed  to  his  father's  breast,  his  whole, 
little  body  shaking  with  sobbing.  Mahon  was  speaking  to 
him,  admonishing  him,  it  must  be,  not  to  cry ;  for  he  be- 
gan to  struggle  as  I  had  seen  him  do  before,  unavailing  at 
first,  till  with  a  great  effort  he  straightened  himself,  loos- 
ened his  arms,  slipped  down  and  stood  by  his  father, 
turned  close  to  him  yet  and  his  lips  still  quivering,  dry- 
ing his  face  on  his  father's  handkerchief  and  blowing  his 
poor,  little,  swollen  nose. 

Mr.  Ben  now  drew  near,  and  I  caught  some  words  he 
spoke.  He  had  sent  for  a  cab.  He  also  must  be  telling 
Mahon  sornething  of  my  role  in  this  melodrama.  "Stout 
Mexican  boy,"  I  heard  myself  called  several  times. 
Mahon  glanced  round ;  Mr.  Ben,  too.  Little  Mahon  was 
appealed  to;  but  he  shook  his  head  a  little,  and  I  could 
just  know,  if  they  asked  for  me,  he  would  be  saying:  "I 

424 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

tiiiiik  he  is  gone."  The  cab  arrived.  Mahon  with  the 
boy  by  the  hand,  was  going  toward  the  entrance,  Mr.  Ben 
convoying  them  on,  what  sailors  would  call,  the  weather 
beam.  I  heard  the  cab  door  being  slammed  and  the  cab 
rolling  away.  Mr.  Ben  went  back  into  the  inner  court. 
Some  lights  were  turned  off,  I  left  my  recess  in  the  angle 
pillar,  sneaked  down  the  stairs,  out  into  the  street  and 
walked  the  streets  for  long  hours  as  my  father  would  do 
so  many  years  ago. 


All  day  yesterday  and  to-day  I  have  wandered  about, 
out  to  the  Stillborn  place,  the  barn  door,  the  empty  blocks 
of  building  lots,  along  the  car  line  into  town,  over  Russian 
Hill  all  the  way  I  went  with  little  Mahon,  going  into  the 
same  eating  house,  sitting  at  the  same  table,  going  down 
to  the  altered  Tem  Oldock  Block  and  to  the  Jones  Block, 
standing  outside,  across  the  street. 

The  pressure  of  his  arms  is  always  around  my  neck, 
his  head  on  my  shoulder.  I  am  like  one  lost  in  sweet 
unreality.  It  is  my  little  brother  I  am  holding  in  my 
arms. 

Of  course  it  was  the  resemblance  of  Mahon  I  saw  in 
the  boy,  and  I  took  it  for  Harry's ;  his  age  being  the  same 
that  Harry's  was  when  we  parted.  The  blue  eyes  with 
the  long,  black  lashes  are  Mahon's  exactly.  My  brother's 
eyes  were  different.  But  in  other  ways  little  Mahon  did 
resemble  little  Harry.  He  does ;  I  cannot  get  over  it.  In 
manner  and  in  speaking,  too.  When  he  asked :  "Do  you 
know  us?"  and.  "Are  you  going  away  now?"  it  was  my 
brother  that  spoke.  He  would  have  used  the  same  words 
and  in  the  same  way,  with  the  same  expression  of  voice. 

But  Mahon's  boy  is  not  in  the  least  bashful  as  my 
brother  was.  He  is  as  I  was,  and  it  is  I  that  is  being 
carried  by  my  father. 

425 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

Again,  I  may  be  all  mistaken.  What  was  the  picture 
in  me  of  my  childhood's  Mahon?  May  it  not  be  similar 
with  my  recollections  of  my  brother?  How  often  have 
I  not  seen  children  that  I  thought  resembled  Harry? 
Every  blue-eyed  boy  of  his  age  and  nice  appearance  and 
giving  signs  of  his  gentle  disposition  has  seemed  to  me  to 
look  like  him.  Can  I  be  all  wrong?  Have  I  in  all  that 
shut-in  life  built  up  a  fanciful  world  of  the  past,  by  which 
I  now  find  myself  surrounded  and  cut  off  from  the  real 
world  ? 


One  week  is  past.     I  must  come  to  some  conclusion. 

As  long  as  I  knew  nothing  of  anybody's  being  here  I 
had  only  to  wish  and  hope  that  somebody  would  come 
and  the  rest  would  arrange  itself  by  itself,  so  easily, 
naturally,  I  did  not  even  consider,  (so  it  now  seems)  what 
that  rest  would  consist  of.  Or  my  longing  was  so  great 
it  did  away  with  all  power  of  reasoning  as  to  what  re- 
mained to  be  done  afterwards. 

When  I  met  little  Mahon  and  learned  that  which  I 
had  hardly  dared  to  believe  would  happen  some  time  in 
the  fortuneful  future ;  had  already  happened :  Mahon  was 
already  here,  it  could  not  but  overcome  me.  His  child  in 
my  hands !  at  my  knees,  giving  his  name !  And  little 
Harry  brought  back  to  me  by  Mahon's  boy !  Then  seeing 
Mahon!     I  could  only  give  myself  up  to  it. 

But  now,  what  shall  I  do? 

Mahon,  a  man  of  family  now,  of  standing  in  the  com- 
monwealth of  this  country !  He  may  not,  and  I  reckon 
he  is  not  the  man  of  business  and  action  his  father  al- 
ways was.  Still,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  his  share  in 
his  father's  wealth  he  must  be  a  prominent  member  of 
the  community.  And  can  I,  a  convict,  inflict  myself  on 
him? 

426 


CHROXICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

1  know  he  will  not  care.  If  1  go  to  him  and  tell 
him  who  1  am,  and  that  I  want  to  come  to  him,  I  know 
he  will  say,  "come."  But  can  1  go?  The  wife  and  chil- 
dren!    Can  1  so  thrust  myself  upon  them? 

Did  1  not  go  purposely  to  kill  that  man  ?  But  the 
cause !     The  wrong ! 

But  the  cause!  the  wrong!  And  if  it  was  not  enough, 
have  I  not  paid  for  it?  Have  I  not  paid  for  it?  Am  I 
not  still  paying  for  it,  whether  I  will  or  not  ?  Shall  I  not 
pay  for  it  as  long  as  I  live?  Is  not  that  atonement 
enough?  What  more  can  I  do?  Tell  me  somebody  and 
I  will  do  it.  I  will  do  it,  try  to  do  it.  But  do  not  tell 
me  that  I  must  repent,  for  I  cannot  be  sorry  for  what  I 
did.  That  is  impossible.  Invent  some  other  punishment 
instead  of  that,  and  I  will  take  it,  some  chastisement  fierce 
and  raw.  I  will  bear  it,  be  it  everlasting.  Did  I  not 
bear  the  terrors  when  but  a  child?  Give  me  some  task, 
wherein  I  may  work  out  my  purification,  if  I  must  be 
purified  and  made  fit  to  associate  with  Mahon  and  his 
family,   his   wife  and  children. 

For  that  is  what  I  want,  their  friendship,  their  home, 
to  be  one  w'ith  them ! 

And  my  brother? 

How  does  everything  seem  twisted  that  I  constantly 
confound  my  brother  with  jMahon's  boy? 

As  regards  Mahon,  the  secret  of  my  life  is  twofold — 
my  identity  the  first,  my  prison-life  the  other.  When 
they  are  unclosed,  then  should  my  life  in  prison  be  wiped 
out  by  the  fact  of  who  I  am,  the  boy  that  loved  him  and 
was  his  devoted  follower  and  would  be  that  now  again ; 
the  boy  he  so  often  protected,  and  who  will  now  defend 
and  protect  his  children  to  his  last  breath,  who  has  rescued 
and  protected  one  of  them  already. 

Sometimes  I  think  Mahon  has  utterly  forgotten  me, 
as  he  did  before.  But  I  will  not  tell  him  who  I  am.  I 
will  leave  that  till  Mr.  Tern  Oldock  has  come  back.     He 

427 


CHRONICLES  Oi^  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

will  know  me.     All  secrets  will  be  out  when  Mr.  Tern 
Oldock  is  returned.     But  will   Mahon  remember  then? 


1  am  in  his  house. 

His  wife  has  left  him.  She  ran  away  with  some  one 
else.  The  man  at  the  very  start  of  the  elopement  was 
killed  by  some  accident.  Mahon  obtained  a  full  divorce 
and  possession  of  the  children,  two  boys,  twins,  my  little 
Mahon,  whom  they  call  Mark  and  the  other  named  John 
Henry. 

Mahon  told  me  everything,  very  much  in  the  way  his 
father  used  to  tell  his  tales,  rather  disconnectedly  and 
with  repetitions ;  quite  the  same,  only  that  he  is  more 
candid. 

Altogether  he  reminds  me  of  his  father  now  much  more 
than  he  ever  did  before. 

Less  jolly  he  has  become,  more  serious.  But  I  well 
remember  that  with  all  his  frolicsomeness,  when  a  boy, 
he  always  treated  what  was  seriously  put  before  him, 
seriously. 

He  told  me  everything.  I  knew  he  very  soon  would. 
And  does  he  really  not  know  me  at  all  ?  It  seems  impos- 
sible. But  yet  it  is  so.  It  gave  me  a  bitter  enough  pang 
to  find  myself  so  dead  to  him.  For  that  is  what  I  am. 
Gone  out  of  existence  and  so  utterly  forgotten  as  if  I 
never  had  been!  He  feels  I  am  a  friend,  the  friend  I 
have  pronounced  myself  to  be.  I  am  in  a  way  familiar 
to  him.  He  is  pretty  certain,  too,  that  he  has  met  me  and 
has  known  me  some  time,  somewhere,  or  that  I  resemble 
somebody  he  has  been  well  acquainted  with.  He  spoke 
to  the  boy  of  an  uncle  whom  I  might  look  like.  He 
asked  me  if  I  had  ever  been  in  France.  But  Manuel,  the 
work  boy  on  the  old  wharf  near  his  father's  old  brewery 
he  does  not  recollect,  nor  the  later  Manuel,  he  went  to 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

school  with.  The  earlier  one,  indeed,  he  had  forgotten 
when  I  came  into  Mr.  Tern  Oldock's  house.  It  is  his 
memory  that  is  at  fault. 


I  had  gone  to  the  Jones  Block  on  purpose  to  present 
myself  to  him,  to  wait  for  him  in  the  entrance.  Back  in 
the  lobby  I  saw  Mr.  Ben  and  thought  he  was  observing 
me,  I  did  not  particularly  care  if  he  did  or  not.  Per- 
haps I  might  make  use  of  him  for  an  introduction  to 
Mahon  to  gain  a  hearing.  Only  I  had  to  see  Mahon 
alone  first;  for,  of  course  there  was  such  a  thing  as 
Mahon's  not  wanting  to  have  anything  to  do  with  me  at 
all,  the  possibility  of  his  knowing  me  and  turning  me  off, 
disowning  me,  denouncing  me.  I  never  believed  it^ 
though  I  don't  know  that  I  had  any  very  clearly  defined 
idea  about  the  way  Mahon  would  receive  me.  But  it 
stood  with  him  to  repudiate  me  if  he  judged  right  to  do 
so.  I  had  to  give  him  the  chance  to  do  it  and  for  that  I 
wanted  to  see  him  first,  alone. 

I  had  to  wait  a  long  time.  It  was  after  eleven  o'clock 
when  I  saw  Mahon  coming  straight  towards  me.  He  di4 
not  see  me  till  I  addressed  him,  right  in  the  wide  entrance 
of  the  building. 

As  he  looked  at  me,  his  face  brightened,  like  his  little 
son's  face  had  brightened,  as  his  own  face,  when  he  was 
a  boy,  would  brighten  at  any  glad  emotion,  as  with  a 
flash. 

''Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "how  are  yon  ?"  stopping  to  ex- 
tend his  hand. 

Then,  instantly  there  was  a  change. 

'T  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "I  thought  I  knew  you. 
You  must  resemble  some  one  I  am  acquainted  with.  Ex- 
cuse the  mistake." 

He  still  smiled,  but  he  did  not  know  me.     He  spoke 

429 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

very  politely.  His  politeness  disconcerted  me  a  little,  as 
well  as  my  finding  myself  such  a  complete  blank  to  him. 
1  could  see  he  had  not  the  least  idea  who  I  was,  and  also 
that  he  made  not  the  least  effort  to  remember.  But  my 
disconcertion  he  noticed  and  with  an  unexpected  gentle- 
ness, when  he  saw  I  could  not  speak,  remarked,  "But  you 
were  speaking  to  me." 

1  had  prepared  myself  a  little  for  what  I  would  say  to 
him,  but  only  very  slowly  did  I  gain  self-possession 
enough  to  speak  with  some  clearness  and  certainty. 

1  told  him  I  had  been  given  to  understand  that  he  was 
going  with  his  family  to  Mexico,  where  he  or  his  father 
or  both  had  possessions  and  that  T  had  come  to  ask  him  to 
take  me  along  with  him  in  his  employ.  He  would  make 
me  very  happy  if  he  did.  1  had  always  wished  to  go 
there.  I  was  almost  a  Mexican.  I  was  a  gardener  and 
other  things.  1  should  serve  him  faithfully.  I  could 
take  care  of  horses,  cattle,  chickens,  children,  any  kind 
of  animals. 

My  name  I  spoke  very  guiltily,  Manuel  Eguren,  the 
name  I  had  borne  in  school :  almost  losing  my  breath, 
stopping  short  to  be  recognized.  But  no  recognition 
came,  and  at  the  mention  of  the  children  a  look  of  dis- 
trust came  in  his  face.  Involuntarily,  it  seemed,  he 
stepped  back  a  little  into  a  recess  in  the  vestibule  wall. 
He  glanced  right  and  left  along  the  stream  of  people, 
moving  out  and  in  at  our  side. 

I  was  observing  him.  He  should  be  taller,  broader, 
heavier,  larger  every  way.  The  longer  1  looked  the  less 
I  saw  of  the  old  Mahon.  My  imagination  could  not 
adapt  what  I  saw  to  the  past;  at  least  but  little.  His 
eyes  have  the  old  lighting  up  that  appears  to  brighten  all 
that  surrounds  him.  His  red  cheeks  are  gone.  He  looks 
quite  pale,  if  not  of  an  unhealthy  paleness.  His  mus- 
tache liides  his  mouth  and  I  could  hardly  follow  some  of 

430 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

the  old  lines  of  good  will  around  his  lips.  There  was 
more  than  I  saw  though. 

At  first  he  did  not  look  at  me  very  much.  He  stood 
leisurely  listening  with  perfect  good  breeding,  seeming  in 
a  way  to  like  to  listen  to  me.  Once  when  I  looked  toward 
Mr.  Ben,  he  followed  my  glance,  but  he  scarcely  appeared 
interested. 

All  the  time  I  continued  to  speak.  Beginning  in  next 
to  incoherence,  I  pretty  soon  had  to  take  care,  not  to  be- 
come too  familiar  in  mv  manner. 

It  was  very  hard.  In  me  was  something  calling,  cry- 
ing all  the  time.  *'Mahon!  Mahon !  Don't  you  know  me?" 
I  could  only  hold  it  dowm  by  keeping  on  talking. 

I  had  been  to  sea,  I  told  him,  and  I  had  lived  and 
worked  on  a  farm  and  in  the  city  and  could  do  any  kind 
of  work  in  the  house  or  field.  "Or  for  your  children," 
I  proceeded,  "as  a  sort  of  first  tutor,  as  long  as  they  are 
little,  I  know  I  should  give  satisfaction.  All  the  ele- 
mentary branches  taught  in  our  public  schools  I  can  teach 
them.  Spanish,  too,  and  music,  if  you  like.  And  I  can 
put  them  to  pull  an  oar,  sail  a  boat,  break  and  handle  a 
horse,  box  a  bout,  sing  a  song  and  dance  a  jig.  I  have 
no  home,  no  folks,  nor  any  other  ailments  except  a  few 
hundred  dollars  in  the  bank.  I  am  constant,  I  like  work, 
and  I  love  children." 

There  was  interest  enough  in  his  face  now  and  no  dis- 
trust nor  displeasure.     With  his  brightest  smile  he  asked : 

"Will  you  not  tell  me  who  you  are?" 

"I  wish,"  I  said,  "you  would  not  insist  on  my  telling 
you  all  about  myself  now.  I  should  like  you  to  become 
acquainted  with  me  first,  to  see  for  yourself  what  I  am 
and  if  all  I  have  praised  myself  up  to  be.  comes  true. 
You  will  soon  enough  know  enough  of  me.  If  you  re- 
member at  all,  I  cannot  remain  a  secret  long.  I  know  I 
ought  to  tell  you,  even  if  you  should  not  know  then.  But 
in  truth,  you  ought  to  know  me  without  any  telling  for 

4.^1 


CHRONICLES  Of  MANUEL  ALANUS 

you  were  my  friend  once.  No,  not  once,  but  a  hundred 
times,  and  I  was  yours  always." 

"Were  you  ever  in  France?" 

"I  never  was  away  from  the  Pacific  coast." 

"Well,  I  cannot  place  you.  But  who  told  you  that  I 
wanted  somebody  for  the  children,  for  just  such  a  posi- 
tion, in  fact,  as  you  are  applying  for  ?  Will  you  not  tell 
me  that  ?     Has  anybody  sent  you  ?" 

"I  did  not  say,"  I  returned,  "that  anybody  had  told  me 
you  wanted  a  tutor  for  your  children,  or  general-utility 
man,  or  sort  of  serving  man.  But  somebody  did  tell  me 
that  your  father,  Mr.  John  Tem  Oldock  had  gone  to 
Mexico,  shortly  to  return  and  that  as  soon  as  he  came 
back,  you  all  were  going  to  Mexico,  to  live  there." 

"And?" 

I  had  noticed  Mr.  Ben  approaching. 

"It  was  your  son,"  I  said. 

"How?" 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Ben  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm  and 
called  out  loud :  "This  is  the  fellow  Mr.  Tem  Oldock,  he 
is  the  fellow  who  brought  your  boy  here  the  other  night." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mahon;  and  we  both  laughed  and 
shook  hands. 

Before  the  laugh  was  ended,  I  had  told  him  I  should 
need  the  balance  of  that  day  and  part  of  next  day  to  ar- 
range about  my  different  gardening  jobs  and  to  get  some 
men  to  see  to  them  for  my  customers,  but  that  I  should 
be  at  his  house  with  my  things  the  evening  of  the  next 
day. 

He  smiled  assent  and  said,  "all  right."  And  not  a  word 
more  did  he  utter  relative  to  my  place  in  the  family,  my 
situation,  my  position  in  the  house.  He  takes  it  for 
granted  that  I  shall  make  my  own  place,  find  my  own  du- 
ties, prepare  and  do  my  own  work.  And  in  all  this  he 
is  entirely  his  own,  old  self. 

He  had  that  morning  taken  the  boys  to  Oakland,  to 

432 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

visit  the  Mrs.  Smith,  at  whose  boarding  house  or  private 
hotel  they  had  hved  before  they  moved  to  the  city.  He 
was  going  over  the  bay  again  in  the  afternoon  to  fetch 
them  back.  Now  he  proposed  to  stay  over  there  with 
them  and  return  with  them  home  the  next  day,  when  I 
would  be  coming  out  to  the  house  in  the  evening. 


Mahon  had  proposed  to  keep  the  children  in  ignorance 
of  my  coming,  promising  me  that  little  Mahon  should 
recognize  me  by  himself.  But  when  I  came  to  the  house, 
I  found  he  had  told  the  boys  everything,  quite  in  the  way 
his  father  would  have  acted,  and  perhaps  to  everybody's 
greater  satisfaction.  For  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  little 
Mahon  would  have  recognized  me  without  prompting. 
Now,  however,  he  came  running,  jumping  upon  me,  be- 
fore I  was  well  inside  the  door,  throwing  his  arms  round 
me.  And  when  I  took  him  up  to  sit  on  my  left  arm  with 
his  feet  out  behind  and  asked  him,  ''This  is  the  way  I 
carried  you,  don't  you  remember?"  he  shouted,  ''Look, 
papa !  Henry,  look !  Look,  papa,  look !  This  is  the 
way  he  carried  me."  He  was  so  free  of  all  reserve  now, 
letting  me  handle  him  and  do  with  him  as  I  pleased,  so 
openly  confident,  affectionate,  happy  as  was  worth  any 
hundred  surprises  however  well  prepared  and  success- 
fully carried  out. 

It  was  amusing,  too,  how  he  did  a  little  showing  off 
with  his  prior  acquaintance  with  me,  informing  his  twin 
brother  with  some  importance  that  I  was  the  man  who 
had  brought  him  all  the  way  to  the  Jones  Block.  When 
I  looked  at  his  hurts  and  inquired  how  they  were,  he  ex- 
clairned,  "Oh !  that  was  nothing." 
-    The  other  boy  is  very  different.     He  is  very  bashful. 

I  had  sent  out  my  traps  to  the  house  by  an  expressrnan. 
Tliey  arrived  while  we  were  at  supper  and  were  carried 

433 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

up  to  my  room  by  one  of  the  four  Chinamen  in  the  house, 
who  are  all  servants,  old  and  tried,  of  Mr.  Tem  Oldock. 
We  all  went,  after  supper  upstairs  together  and  I  was 
shown  my  bedroom  adjoining  the  boys'  rooms.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  boys'  nursery  are  Mahon's  rooms  and 
some  bathrooms.  Mr.  Tem  Oldock's  rooms  are  in  front. 
The  way  the  house  has  been  furnished,  after  having  very 
lately  been  bought  by  Mr.  Tem  Oldock,  does  not  make  it 
look  as  if  there  would  be  a  speedy  departure  for  Mexico. 

Naturally  there  was  no  rest  till  I  had  opened  my  boxes 
and  shown  my  musical  instruments  and  other  possessions. 
After  that  T  proposed  a  play  with  the  children  to  make 
us  gdi  acquainted  quicker,  one  of  the  plays  my  father 
used  to  play  with  Harry  and  me,  which  I  never  forgot, 
which  plays  always  were  to  me  the  perfection  of  such 
childrens'  entertainments.  Mahon  was  looking  on.  He 
claimed  to  have  an  appointment  to  go  somewhere.  I  at 
first  thought  he  hesitated  to  leave  the  boys  in  my  charge, 
but  he  lingered  as  if  he  would  really  like  to  join  us,  till 
he  went  oflf  hurriedly,  just  as  the  play  was  growing  most 
interesting. 

A  mirror  laid  flat  on  the  nursery  table  was  a  big  lake  or 
inland  sea,  whatever  the  children  wanted;  out  of  handy 
things;  blocks,  boxes,  tablescloths,  books;  the  hilly  land 
around  the  lake  was  formed  as  were  also  the  mountains 
farther  back.  With  the  contents  of  toy-boxes  the  coun- 
try was  settled  up.  Towns  were  founded,  roads  were 
built,  railroads  and  even  tunnels.  Little  squares  of  paper 
were  folded  to  sail  as  boats  the  glassy  deep.  Larger  ships 
had  toothpicks  for  masts.  Trading  around  the  inland 
sea  became  lively.  Sometimes  a  hurricane  scattered  the 
vessels ;  then  the  end  had  come.  One  of  the  Chinese  ser- 
vants, who  is  quite  an  elderly  man  appeared  and  said  it 
was  bedtime.  He  came  to  put  the  children  to  bed,  but 
T  told  him  I  should  see  to  it  myself. 

When  I  put  little  Mahon  in  his  bed,  he  asked : 

434 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

''Will  you  stay  with  us  now  always  ?" 

"Your  papa  has  not  told  me  yet  if  he  will  want  me  to." 

"Oh,  do  stay!     Stay  with  us!" 

"T  will,  if  your  papa  is  satisfied." 

"Oh,  he  is  satisfied." 

"He  may  not  be." 

"Oh,  yes!  he  will.     Do  you  know  many  such  plays.?" 

"Yes,  a  good  many !  My  father  used  to  play  such  plays 
with  me  often  and  show  me  others ;  me  and  my  brother. 
You  remember,  I  told  you  I  once  had  a  little  brother, 
just  like  you,  don't  you?" 

"I  don't  know.     I  don't  think  I  remember.     Is  he  not 

here  now  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  know  where  he  is,  he  went  away  with  his 

mama." 

The  little  fellow  lay  quite  still.  He  was  looking  me  in 
the  eyes.  And  with  an  expression  of  something  not  un- 
like awe  he  asked  in  a  half  whisper :  "Did  your  mama  go 
away  from  you  when  you  were  little?" 

Presently  he  was  asleep. 


I  was  all  the  time  careful  not  to  obtrude  myself  on  the 
shy  little  Henry.  Shy,  yes !  but  how  different  from  little 
Harry !  He  is  not  only  bashful,  and  in  some  ways  he  is 
not  bashful  at  all.  He  reminds  me  of  something  I  don't 
want  to  think  of,  at  times.  He  has  a  way  of  what  I 
should  call  working  an  advantage  out  of  his  father's  re- 
gard for  his  shy  disposition;  working  on  his  sympathy, 
acting  so  as  to  make  himself  out  more  bashful  yet  than 
he  is,  so  as  to  make  his  father  believe  him  to  be  the  still 
greater  sufferer  from  his  peculiar  disposition.  For  the 
boy's  condition  appeals  to  Mahon's  strong,  inborn  sense 
of  helpfulness  and  protection  of  the  weak,  and  makes  him 

435 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

ever  ready  in  the  boy's  defence.  In  the  same  spirit,  also, 
Mahon  seems  to  give  the  boy  Henry  more  Hcense  to  do 
and  say  what  Httle  Mahon  is  not  allowed  to  say  and  do 
without  reprimand  or  even  punishment.  And  so  manfully 
does  little  Mahon  take  it ! 

Mahon  is  very  wrong  in  this  and  I  shall  tell  him  sc 
before  another  day  is  done.  He  acts,  as  I  believe  many 
fathers,  under  the  mistaken  idea  that  they  can  in  that 
way  even  up  things  between  children.  Or,  very  often,  in 
fact,  most  of  the  time,  there  is  personal  feeling  in  the 
matter.  Little  Henry's  helpless  bashfulness  makes 
Mahon  cross,  and  little  Mahon  catches  it. 


It  was  near  midnight  when  Mahon  returned.  He  had 
been  to  Oakland  to  pay  Mrs.  Smith  another  visit  after 
having,  but  a  few  hours  ago,  I  might  say,  left  her. 

When  I  heard  from  him  where  he  had  been,  I  felt 
sure  he  was  going  to  marry  Mrs.  Smith,  what  he  after- 
wards admitted  to  be  the  case. 

I  longed  to  ask  him  if  he  had  any  orders  for  me  from 
her,  but  I  thought  he  would  have  to  be  educated  up  a 
little  to  my  way  of  joking  before  I  allowed  myself  such 
liberties.  However  I  soon  found,  that  I  should  not  have 
been  far  from  right.  Her  influence  and  her  power  over 
him  were  detectable  in  all  his  communications  and  the 
result  of  his  consultations  with  her  plainly  showed  itself 
in  a  number  of  what  could  be  called  instructions. 

I  had  been  wondering  before,  why  he  had  not  remained 
living  in  Oakland,  boarding  with  Mrs.  Smith,  at  her  pri- 
vate hotel.  I  am  now  convinced  that  it  was  she  that  sent 
him  away.  And  I  reckon  it  was  advisable.  And  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  sTie  is  something  of  a  superior 
mutually,  strongly  attached. 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

woman   of  tact   and   judgment,   sensible   if,   maybe,   not 
very  quick,  firm,  yet  tender-hearted,  and  that  they  are 

Certainly  I  cannot  know  it  altogether  for  sure,  but  I 
believe  he  went  to  her  to-night  to  obtain  her  permission 
to  take  me  into  his  full  confidence.  Or  if  permission  be 
too  harsh  an  expression,  I  will  say,  he  went  to  her  for 
her  sanction,  her  approval  of  such  a  step. 

When  he  went  to  Oakland  the  day  he  had  first  met  me 
he  made  his  report  to  her  of  all  that  had  happened,  of 
my  appearance  on  the  scene,  my  almost  forcing  myself 
on  him  and  his  family.  He  and  she  had  then  most  as- 
suredly talked  me  over:  the  likeliness  of  my  being  some 
one  he  had  known  formerly  here,  in  this  place,  and  for- 
gotten; the  possibility  of  my  being  an  emissary  of  some 
sort  of  the  divorced  woman,  but  the  improbability  of  the 
same.  It  all  had  duly  been  considered ;  he  had  asked  her 
advice,  what  he  should  do ;  she  had  conditioned  for  time 
till  to-night  to  think  it  over ;  to-night  they  had  talked  it 
all  over  again,  and  she  had  advised  him  to  do  what  he  had 
been  ready  and  wanting  to  do  spontaneously  himself :  to 
take  me  for  the  friend  I  had  so  openly  declared  myself 

to  be. 

Hence  the  bright  smile  on  his  face,  and  the  eager  clasp 
of  his  hand  as  I  opened  the  door  for  him,  as  I  heard  him 
coming  up  the  front  steps. 

He  was  very  glad  to  find  I  had  not  gone  to  bed,  he 
said,  as  he  wanted  to  confer  with  me  very  much  about 
several  things.  But  if  I  was  tired  or  not  disposed  to 
be  bothered  with  confidential  intercourse  so  late  at  night 
he  would  postpone  what  he  had  to  say  till  morning.  Only 
that  he  thought,  since  I  proposed  to  become  an  inmate 
of  the  house,  a  trainer  of  the  children  and  a  friend  to  all 
the  family,  the  sooner  I  became  acquainted  with  the  con- 
dition of  things  concerning  all  parties,  the  better. 

I  told  him  he  was  right,  and  I  was  altogether  at  his 

437 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

disposal,  when  he  asked  me  into  his  bedroom,  where  he 
took  off  his  coat  and  sat  with  me  in  his  shirt  sleeves. 

He  first  made  some  observations  on  the  coincidence  of 
my  coming  to  him  at  the  very  time  he  ever  had  most 
wanted  such  a  friend.  For,  as  an  act  of  the  greatest 
friendship,  he  said,  he  regarded  it,  for  me  to  offer  myself 
as  companion,  teacher  and  trainer  of  the  boys,  something 
he  himself  never  had  been  and  never  would  be  fit  and 
able  to  be. 

But  he  must  tell  me  right  off,  he  interrupted  himself 
that  he  was  not  going  to  Mexico.  He  hoped  that  would 
not  make  him  lose  me  and  that  I  could  be  prevailed  upon, 
being  so  fond  of  the  children  and  such  a  true,  old,  though 
as  yet  unknown  friend  of  his,  to  stay  with  them  and  be- 
come one  of  them  altogether. 

For  himself  he  must  say  he  was  a  Calif ornian  born  and 
had  come  back  now  to  California  to  remain  as  long  as 
he  lived,  to  be  and  stay  a  Californian  rancher ;  a  farmer. 
"The  only  thing  he  was  still  fit  to  be  was  a  farmer,"  he 
exclaimed. 

"The  first  time  I  found  that  out,"  he  went  on,  "was 
when  I  was  a  young  fellow  of  sixteen,  seventeen,  maybe 
eighteen  years  of  age,  just  before  I  went  away  from  here 
with  my  father  to  Europe,  where  I  have  lived  a  fool's 
life  since  that  time. 

"I  don't  remember  the  circumstances.  My  memory  is 
bad.  I  had  accidentally  gotten  on  some  ranch  hereabouts 
belonging  to  some  acquaintance  of  my  father,  where  I 
worked  in  the  fields  just  like  a  farm  hand.  And  it  was 
the  best  time  of  my  life,  if  I  had  only  known  it.  But  I 
was  too  young  and  too  ignorant  to  know  what  I  felt  and 
wanted.  And  traveling,  going  to  Europe  and  elsewhere 
seemed  to  be  a  fine  thing,  too.  That  was  my  first  ex- 
perience. 

"The  second  time  was  when  I  was  traveling  with  my 
wife.     She  was  suddenly  confined.     The  boys  were  born 

438 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

For  quite  a  time  we  were  detained  in  a  small  village  near 
the  eastern  border  of  Holland. 

"I  used  to  knock  round  and  pass  my  time  watchmg  the 
men  and  women  working  in  the  fields.     And  then,  talk- 
ing to  them  and  inquiring  and  afterwards  havmg  records 
searched.     I    found  out  there,   nearby   where   we  were 
staying  was  the  place  where  long  ago  my  folks,  my  an- 
cestors  now,  had  owned  large  farms  of  rich  bottom-lands, 
had  lived  and  tilled  their  big  East  Frisian  fields  for  hun- 
dreds of  years.     And  one  fine  day,  a  beautiful  summer 
day  I  had  gone  out  in  the  fields  and  stood  lookmg  at 
the  crops,  and  it  came  to  me,  such  must  be  my  life  in  the 
fields  like  of  my  ancestors.     It  came  to  me,  I  don't  know 
how,  but  it  came  to  me,  just  as  I  was  standing  there  look- 
ing over  the  fields  full  of  ripening  grain,  waving  in  tiie 
soft  breeze.     How  it  came  I  cannot  tell,  nor  really  what 
it  was  that  came  to  me,  but  those  crops,  those  waving 
grain  fields,  I  liked  them  above  all  things,  and  at  once  1 
felt   such  a  place  that  was  the  place  where  I  belonged. 
And  I  kind  of  made  up  my  mind  I  would  live  and  die 
on  a  farm.     I  had  to,  it  seemed,  and  my  children  after 

''But  then  I  had  a  wife  and  she  was  rich.     And  I  had 
a  father  and  he  was  rich.     So  what  could  I  do. 

"And  now  I  will  just  tell  you  how  I  am  situated  and 

how  I  feel.  ,       ,    ^  cu 

''My  wife  is  gone.  Well,  I  told  you  that  before.  She 
made  life  a  hell  for  me  while  she  had  the  chance.  I  am 
free  of  her.  I  am  legally  and  fully  divorced.  But  she 
may  come  for  the  children,  steal  them,  carry  them  off. 
She  is  rich.     She  knows  every  trick. 

"I  never  speak  of  her,  not  even  to  my  father.     Well 
yes    there  is  one  person  I  have  spoken  to  of  her,  and 
that  is  the  woman  I  am  going  to  marry,  the  woman  I 
have  been  to  see  to-night.     I  had  to  talk  to  Sarah  about 
her  of  course.     But  we  don't  speak  of  her  unless  '- 

439 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

must.  1  want  to  forget  that  there  is  any  such  as  she  in 
the  whole  world.  I  don't  want  to  think  any  more  of  her 
at  all.  But  to  you  I  must  speak  of  her,  just  once.  I 
shall  do  it  but  this  one  time.  If  I  did  not  tell  you  about 
her  you  would  blame  me.  It  would  not  be  fair.  For  you 
will  now  be  responsible  for  the  children.  1  shall  be  with 
you  certainly,  if  I  live.  But  their  principal  defender 
will  be  you.  And  I  can't  help  always  thinking,  how- 
strange  it  all  worked  that  you  should  come  to  us  at  the 
very  time  w-e  needed  you  most. 

**I  have  told  you,  have  I  not?  that  we  had  a  tutor.  I 
should  not  have  dismissed  him,  only  he  was  such  a  liar. 
The  occasion  of  Mark's  getting  lost  got  him  his  discharge. 
He  lied  so  outrageously,  I  could  not  stand  it.  But  you 
cannot  think  how  I  fretted.  And  now  this  turn  that  that 
very  accident  of  the  boy's  losing  himself  should  bring 
you  to  us ! 

"I  want  to  say  though  that  I  don't  consider  the  man 
was  to  blame  for  the  boy's  losing  his  way,  and  I  told 
him  so. 

"But  I  have  told  you  this  before,  more  than  once,  I 
reckon.  And  I  should  be  talking  of  other  things  that 
give  you  an  idea  of  the  one  you  will  some  day  have  to 
fight. 

"Just  this  for  one  thing.  She  told  me  the  day  before 
she  ran  away,  I  must  not  think  that  the  boys  were  my  chil- 
dren. You  may  think  very  poorly  of  me  for  telling  this. 
But  I  think  I  should  be  doing  wrong  in  accepting  your 
friendship  for  myself  and  more  yet  for  the  children  if 
I  did  not  tell  you  this,  or  other  things  as  bad,  in  warning. 
T  don't  believe  what  she  said,  mind  you !  Never !  The 
boys  are  mine  and  I  love  them.  Perhaps  I  don't  concern 
myself  quite  as  much  for  one  as  for  the  other,  but  they 
are  mine. 

"Yes,  she  told  me  the  boys  were  not  my  children.     Yes  ! 

440 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

And  she — yes,  she  told — she  told  them.     Think  of  it !     A 
mother  to— such — and  a  He  to  poison 

"That  is  the  woman. 

"And  she  does  not  care  a  rap  for  the  boys.  Naturally 
she  hates  children,  and  for  her  own  not  one  beat  of  the 
heart  counts.  She  only  would  want  to  get  them  away 
from  us,  because,  well,  1  suppose  because  we  like  them 
and  love  them.  And  sometimes  I  can't  help  thinking 
she  would  want  to  get  them  into  her  hands  because  she 
would  like  to  have  the  corrupting  of  them,  to  gratify  the 
depraved  cravings  of  a  corrupt  mind. 

"Now  I  rely  on  you.  For  in  the  case  of  my  death  1 
shall  make  you  guardian  of  the  boys,  together  with 
Sarah,  and  not  my  father,  though  he  likes  the  boys  as 
well  as  I  do.     And  I  like  my  father,  too. 

"But  now  I  will  tell  you.  Half  of  my  life  is  gone,  and 
it  was  nothing.  But  no  divorced  wife,  no  father  and  no 
children  shall  stand  in  my  way  of  working  out  my  happi- 
ness for  my  own  self  from  this  time  forth,  for  what  is 
left  of  my  days. 

"You  see,  I  am  a  spoilt  child.  I  am  the  regulation 
spoilt  only  son.  only  child.  I  have  been  indulged  and  in- 
dulged from  the  day  of  my  birth.  My  mother  died  when 
I  was,  oh !  I  don't  know  how  young.  Had  she  lived,  per- 
haps. Oh !  what  is  the  use  I  I  can't  blame  my  father  for 
it  all.  That  is.  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  doing  and 
he  does  not  know  what  he  has  done.  now.  And  there  is, 
I  cannot  deny  it,  a  certain  something  in  me,  that  lends  it 
self  to  spoiling  me.  to  let  myself  be  spoilt. 

"It  is  a  kind  of  laziness.  People  call  me  good-natured. 
That  is  only  laziness.  And  that  laziness  makes  me  sort 
of  ready  to  be  indulged.  The  woman  I  was  married  to, 
she  made  me  understand  that. 

"Still  that  does  not  m.ake  my  father's  doings  right. 
And  I  can  well  say.  if  he  had  sworn  to  make  a  loafer  of 

441 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

me,  he  could  not  have  done  better  than  he  did.  Yes !  I 
may  cry  and  cry:  Had  but  my  father  put  me  to  work, 
made  me  work !  I  would  bless  every  beating  he  had  given 
me  to  make  me  work. 

"What  have  I  learned?  What  do  I  know?  What  can 
I  do?    What  do  I  amount  to?" 

He  was  greatly  moved  and  for  a  moment  seemed  un- 
able to  control  himself.  He  struggled  just  as  little 
Mahon  had  done,  till  he  won. 

And  he  will  win ! 

He  then  went  on  to  tell  me  what  he  proposed  to  do. 
He  wanted  his  father  to  give  him  outright  a  piece  of 
land  he  possessed  in  California;  and  I  think  it  is  what 
was  my  father's  ranch.  He  wanted  it,  to  have  for  his 
own,  to  hold  and  possess  and  work  as  a  farm.  His  idea 
was  to  first  go  on  some  other  farm  to  work,  find  a  place 
like  a  hired  man,  go  out  to  learn  the  work  and  trade  and 
business  of  farming,  like  any  apprentice  to  any  other 
trade  and  business,  from  the  beginning.  He  was  not  toe 
old  to  learn.  Then  he  would  gradually  take  the  working 
of  his  own  place,  the  ranch  his  father  had  given  him  onto 
himself. 

This  he  wanted  decided  right  away  and  have  his  father 
give  him  that  ranch  now. 

But  it  was  not  alone  a  ranch  he  wanted,  he  also  wanted 
a  wife.  He  was  going  to  marry  again.  He  had  found 
a  woman  that  would  take  him,  a  woman,  sensible  and 
clean  and  sweet,  not  afraid  of  work,  too,  and  healthy. 
And  she  was  born  and  bred  on  a  farm,  too,  liked  farm 
life  and  knew  all  about  it.  She  was  willing  to  wait  till 
he  had  learned  what  he  was  going  to  learn.  It  was  her 
idea  in  fact  that  he  should  go  out  thus  and  learn  farming, 
the  work  and  the  life  of  it.  When  he  was  ready,  they 
would  marry,  a  year  or  two  hence.  But  longer  than  two 
years  he  would  not  wait.  Then  as  soon  as  he  was  mar- 
ried we  would  live  all  together  on  the  ranch;  his  father, 

442 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

too,  if  he  wanted  to.     For  his  father  was  fond  of  country 
life  himself. 

He  knew  very  well,  he  said,  that  Sarah  would  be  boss. 
But  all  good  women  should  be  boss  and  manage  their 
husbands.     Men  were  only  good  for  doing  work. 

She  was  a  widow  and  about  three  months  older  than 
he.  That  was  another  point  that  was  all  right,  he  ex- 
claimed. And  he  could  only  advise  me  to  go  and  do  like- 
wise. But  about  that  he  would  not  say  anything.  Prob- 
ably I  had  already  some  one  in  view,  and  she  should  be 
as  welcome  on  the  ranch  as  myself  when  I  brought  her 
there. 

"And  now,"  he  concluded,  ''there  are  our  boys.  We, 
that  is  Sarah  and  I,  have  been  quite  a  little  puzzled  how 
to  dispose  of  the  two.  Of  course  Sarah  would  take  them 
without  asking,  and  with  the  one  it  would  probably  work 
all  right,  even  after  Sarah  has  children  of  her  own,  which 
I  certainly  shall  want  her  to  have.  But  two  and  so  dif- 
ferent as  to  really  require  a  separate  treatment,  how  i? 
that  to  work  ?  And  how  are  they  to  be  separately  treated, 
unless  they  are  separated?  It  is  too  ridiculous.  You 
will  find  it  out  yourself.  I  don't  know  sometimes  what 
to  do.  It  is  really  an  awful  thing.  Consider  how  it  must 
handicap  anybody  to  be  thus  smitten  and  stricken  with 
shyness!  It  is  just  as  mean,  yes  as  mean  as  being  a 
coward.  Sometimes  I  cannot  help  thinking  it  actually 
makes  a  person  cowardly  all  the  way  through.  Now,  the 
other  one,  he  does  not  take  up  with  everybody  for  a 
friend,  and  I  can't  say  I  quite  like  it,  but  he  has  his  pick. 
For  all  his  life,  there  are  people  pushing  him  along,  while 
with  the  other  it  is  all  up-hill  work.  He  is  afraid  or 
shy  of  everybody.  He  can  make  no  friends.  He  cannot 
do  things  rightly.  He  is  dead  against  himself.  He  must 
be  helped,  and  that  will  fall  to  your  lot,  that  will  be  your 
principal  task,  to  help  him  and  help  us  to  make  a  man 
of  him. 

443 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALANUS 

,  "Once  we  thought  of  taking  one  and  letting  my  father 
take  the  other.  He  would  like  to  take  both.  But  can  I 
consent  to  that?  Can  I  allow  them  to  be  spoilt,  like  I 
have  been,  and  my  life  rumed  ?  Well,  no!  I  won't  say 
that.  I  can't  say  that.  Not  altogether.  I  shall  get  on 
top  yet. 

**Now,  your  coming  has  solved  the  puzzzle.  If  you 
take  charge  of  them,  everything  is  settled.  You  will 
live  with  the  boys  at  Mrs.  Smith's  till  we  are  married, 
when  you  will  come  to  live  with  us  on  the  ranch. 

"Is  that  satisfactory?" 

"Say,  yes  !    Say  it  is  all  right !" 

I  had  to  smile  as  I  told  him,  he  ought  to  wait  till  his 
father  came  to  have  his  say  in  the  matter  and  to  identify 
me. 


He  came  to-day. 

As  he  saw  me.  he  called  out:  "Hallo,  Manuel!"  just 
as  I  had  known  he  would,  holding  out  his  hand,  pointing 
to  the  scar,  the  mark  of  my  teeth. 

"So,  you  know  him?"  Mahon  said. 

"Know  him?     Why,  don't  you?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Well,  if  you  don't,  you  ought  to.  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  don't  know  who  this  is?" 

"I  know  who  he  is?  I  don't  know  who  he  was;  and 
T  don't  want  to  know.  He  has  come  to  me  as  a  friend, 
T  have  taken  him  as  a  friend.  He  is  my  friend  and  the 
friend  of  my  children  who  already  take  to  him,  as  if  they 
had  known  him  all  their  life.  Why  should  I  want  to 
know  who  he  was?" 

"And  why  should  they  not  take  to  him?"  cried  Mr. 
Tem  Oldock.    "Is  he  not  their  uncle?" 

"Uncle?" 

444 


CHRONICLES  OF  MANUEL  ALAN  US 

"Why,  to  be  sure !  Are  you  not  the  son  of  Henry 
Alanus,  and  is  not  the  daughter  of  Henry  Alanus  their 
mother?" 

"Their  mother?" 

"Why,  certainly !     Cora !" 

"Cora!    And  Harry?" 

"What  Harry?" 

"My  brother!" 

"Oh !    Uncle  Henrv !    He  is  dead." 


445 


14  DAY  USE             ^! 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subjea  to  immediate  recall. 

''        g/J^eb^^:-^:!-^ 

RECD  UD 

JUL  30 '64 -12 

^                                                           i 

LD  2IA-40m-ll,'63                         lin.™f,i°if%S™u 

